


Stumbling On the Road So Far: The Angel Chronicles (4-8)

by MockingJayToBeA



Series: Stumbling On the Road So Far [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Not Wincestiel, Sticks to show plot, episode by episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 102
Words: 277,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MockingJayToBeA/pseuds/MockingJayToBeA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My charade is the event of the season...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Undaunted (Lazaurus Rising - 04x01)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fumbling in the Dark: Love Advice For the Romantically Impaired](https://archiveofourown.org/works/181789) by [leonidaslion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonidaslion/pseuds/leonidaslion). 



> Follows from episode to episode, tracing Dean, Sam, and Castiel's relationship as it becomes more and more complicated. Very close to canon, but with additional scenes/surprises. Starts in season 4 and will be continued through Season 10. Inspired by "Fumbling in the Dark: Love Advice for the Romantically Impaired" (which unfortunately ended at Season 5).
> 
>  
> 
> If you don't care to read the backstory on the Wincest brothers (it's not really necessary tbh) that exists of Seasons 1-3, then you can just read this. If you DO want to read it, look for part one in the Stumbling On the Road So Far Series. I had to write them separately bc I am rewatching the show with my dad (in season 1) but I'm also watching it with my bro (at season 5) so I need to write Castiel things so that's why it's split into two parts. Prequel, and then this. Hooray!

 

An Episode by Episode Fic by [FlyByNightGirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flybynightgirl) .::. [Stumbling Blog](http://flybynightgirl.tumblr.com) .::. [All art and videos](http://flybynightgirl.tumblr.com/artmasterpost)

.::. [Comprehensive Chapter Index](http://flybynightgirl.tumblr.com/compendium) .::.

 

 

 

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"Sorry, we must have the wrong room-" Dean cut himself off, his eyes glued to the man who just stepped into view. And lord, man was the only word for it. His Sammy had been to the gym a few times since Dean had last seen him (although his hair had taken a turn for the worse) and he could certainly not be called a boy anymore. But his mind only spent milliseconds on Sam’s body, his brain was too overwhelmed with just the idea of Sam. His brother, he got to see his brother again, got to reach out and touch him, got to be with Sammy. Since the moment he breathed in that dirty coffin air, Dean had been pushing toward this moment, being reunited with the other half of him. His eyes shone, a still shockingly familiar word tumbling out of his mouth.

"Heya Sammy." Sam’s body heaved up and down with each breath, his eyes guarded and disbelieving. As he lunged at Dean with the knife (god damn it, again?) Dean was taken aback for a moment, but not by the attempt to kill him, that was to be expected. But by the black fire he saw in Sam’s eyes, the violence and lack of humanity there. Dean was clearly not the only one messed up by his time away. Dean felt his anger rise at the corruption he saw in Sammy’s eyes, that purity that had been taken away. If Sam hadn’t had gone and done whatever he did to get Dean out-

"Like you didn’t do this?" Sam’s face was, as always, an open book. Shit, Sam didn’t do this. Dean knew hardly seconds after he said it. Sam was too surprised, too hurt. So his expression softened instantly as he stepped forward.

"I know. I look fantastic, huh?" Dean joked lightly, watching Sam with careful eyes through the smile on his lips. He wasn't faking the smile though, nothing could fake the way he was feeling right now. _Sam_. 

Sammy wasn't smiling, his chest was heaving and he was looking at Dean like it was finally all sinking in. Once it was there, the realization that Dean was alive and here with Sam, the expression flipped over like a switch. Suddenly there was nothing but pure determination on Sam's face as the distance between their bodies was suddenly squandered into nothing. 

The slam of Sam's body into his, chests colliding and arms wrapping so tight that they weren't even two people anymore. Their bodies slammed and for the first time since Dean had flicked on his lighter in that decayed coffin of his, it finally sunk in. 

He was alive.

He was alive and Sam was in his arms. 

Actually, Dean was fairly sure he'd never felt more alive than he did in this moment right now. He was so aware, so real and warm and human and so Dean Winchester he couldn't breathe, it was all so much. 

Every nerve ending in his body was sparking and this was Sam's real, alive body. His eyes furrowed as he stretched his arms against Sam’s muscular back and breathed in familiarity. This was Sam, his Sam, god, had he missed this.

Sam’s breathing hitched as he held Dean and Dean could physically feel Sam’s hurt, the tension still in his back. Just like when he was a kid, Dean always could tell when Sam was at that edge, at that breaking point of too much pain. Dean had taken care if his Sammy then and he wasn't stopping now. So Dean lifted his arm slightly for momentum and brought it back down, tugged Sam in closer. He had to reassure him, let him know this was real, and right now, and everything he ever wanted. They were together again and they were both alive and breathing into each other's bodies, chests crushed together as their lungs stole sir directly through the layers of jackets and clothes and just connected then through the matching tattoos over their hearts and the matching desperation. His eyes squeezed shut, determined to let all of his senses just be Sam, 100% Sam.

Everywhere and all around and forget who pulled Dean out, forget that terrifyingly dark look in Sam's eyes. He had Sam and he was alive.

When they pulled back from each other, both kept a hand on the other’s shoulder, not quite willing to let go just yet, but not wanting to overstep any boundaries either. Before Dean went to hell, a boundary or two had been overstepped, but now was definitely not the time.

They were both still looking each other over as the random girl in the corner spoke, “So, are you two, like, together?"

Sam answered her, a little disoriented at first (enough to make Dean worry he was going to answer wrong), but kept his eyes flitting back to Dean, not wanting to let him out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

And god, Dean understood why. It had been too long, much too long, and this still felt a little too good to be true.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as Bobby was gone, Sam could taste the heat in the air. He was still kind of in shock, four months of hell suddenly over washed with this surreal dream. Dean was here, Dean was _here_. With Sam. Every part of him, the same snarky smile and flashing eyes and perfect body and inviting lips and just everything about him was here with Sam and Sam couldn't even believe it.

He wasn't going to let Dean out of his sight, not when there was the chance he wouldn't be there when Sam looked again. Sam would think this was an alcohol-induced hallucination except that all of those he had had had been another version of hell, not the bliss and disbelief that was coursing through Sam's body now.

He couldn't keep his eyes off of Dean in the car, or walking to the dinner, even when the demons threatened them and they walked back out to the car again in a rush, Sam was still glancing at Dean over and over. Yeah, the demon pissed him off, and he seriously couldn't just let the bitch walk free after that. He could take care of that later though, once Dean was asleep. For now though, they were on their way back to the car and Sam was staring again. It had gotten to the point that Dean finally said something.

"Dude, I'm not gonna just disappear, you can stop staring." Dean shot him a side glance, his shoulders turned parallel to Sam's stubbornly. After their initial hug, Dean had been acting strangely physically distant. He still walked beside Sam, shoulders brushing, but there were no hands on lower backs, fingertips brushing wrists, hands fisting in each other's jackets, and his ankles didn't tangle up with Sam's under the diner table. Sam had nudged his foot against Dean's, but Dean had just scooted aside, as though they hadn't spent the past year before Dean died kissing at every opportunity they had. Well, not every opportunity, they probably spent as much time fighting about how they shouldn't kiss as actually kissing. Or more.

"I don't know that," Sam retorted. Dean could disappear again, get dragged back into hell in the blink of an eye without Sam even getting to have that soft mouth under his again. Sam was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it through another night alone if that happened. If he lost Dean for a second time, Sam was probably going to follow him right down in to hell a few minutes later.

They'd reached the car by now, and Dean had his hand on the door when Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean jumped at the light touch like it was a slap and spun around, looking pained. His face had "please Sam don't" written all over it, but Dean didn't understand what it was like without him. Sam had totally lost it, and now that Dean was here, he wasn't going to lose him too.

"Sam, I promise. I'm real, and I'm not leaving. Okay?" Dean was pleading up at him, backed up against the car door, looking pinned like an animal instead of just lightly touched by someone who needed to talk to him. The fear and darkness in Dean's eyes was achingly familiar, something Sam had seen in the eyes of each of his victims that he yanked the demons out of. It was raw, torturoustic fear, and it was out of place in the crystal green. It wasn't right, it was scary for Sam to see that in his brother's eyes.

No matter what had happened to Sam, he had to remember that Dean had been in literal hell while he'd been away. For a moment, Sam could see it in his eyes. He could see the flashes of fire and pain and god knows what else had happened on the four months they'd been separated. And suddenly Sam couldn't push that on Dean, he couldn't make Dean feel trapped by him.

He wanted Dean to want to kiss him, to have what they did in that year before Dean was gone. If Dean didn't want him anymore...Sam had never even considered that might happen. Every dream he'd had about Dean coming back had ended in heated kisses and whispered promises and things they had never gotten to do. And with the look on Dean's face, maybe they never would do.

Sam took his hand back, dropping it to his side in defeat. Dean looked physically relieved, a rush of air coming out of his mouth. Sam dipped his eyes down, away from Dean and that mouth, those parted lips that apparently Sam couldn't have anymore.

"Okay." Sam said quietly. It was a response to both Dean's question and his plea. Sam wouldn't go there, he wouldn't bring back up this palpable thing between them. At least, not yet. Not til he knew what all Dean was going through. Because if there was something that had happened in hell that made him think they couldn't be together...

Unless. Unless Dean had only kissed Sam in the first place because he was dying. A final act of a desperate man. What if it hadn't been anything? What if Sam hadn't meant anything?

Sam may have slammed his door to the Impala as he got inside, but his head was spinning. He needed to know, right now, but he couldn't. He couldn't force Dean to tell him, so maybe he could force someone else. Sam was coming back to the diner, and he was getting those demons. Tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The slight hesitation for pulling the trigger the first time was purely out of shock, although the later hesitations would learn to come from something else. For now though, it was fear and natural hunting instinct as Dean unloaded the bullets into the approaching figure’s chest.

Undaunted, the figure kept walking, sparks and wind swirling around it. Dean swallowed hard, turning and grabbing Ruby’s knife. He and Bobby had to kill this thing. This demon. It was still walking closer (so calmly, why was it walking so calmly?) and was close enough that Dean could stab it directly in the heart. His voice was laced with as much menace as he could muster, masking his fear and this inner crushing feeling as he growled to the man.

"Who are you?"

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah? Thanks for that." If Dean hadn’t still been pumping with adrenaline, the demon’s head nod would have made him cock his head to the side and raise his eyebrows. Did he just acknowledge Dean’s sarcastic comment as an actual…anyways, kill this demon before it can sever his eardrums again.

So, of course, he did. The adrenaline rush started to fade as he watched the man, it looked like a man anyways, reach down and pull the knife from his chest. Dean’s heart started thudding as he stared at the two blinding beautiful (that thought was gone as soon as it appeared, dragged deep down where it couldn’t be a problem) eyes in front of him.

With Bobby on the ground now, he was fine, or at least still alive. So Dean turned his attention back to the man standing above him. He had this oddly magnetic air about him, this mystery, and a weird sensation that Dean just couldn’t place.

Watching Castiel’s wings expand out behind him, Dean could do nothing but stare. But no matter what his spitting words said, it wasn’t hard to believe that, if angels did exist, this is probably what one would act like. Looks wise, Dean would have expected more of a blonde haired, or at least Kate Beckinsale-esque appearance. No matter, it didn’t change the fact that now Castiel was standing a few mere inches from his face, his blue eyes searching Dean’s.

"You don’t think you deserve to be saved."

Every muscle in Dean’s body told him to jerk away, to run, but he couldn’t help but stand and stare at the gaze of the captivating man in front of him. His heart was thudding with fear again, although fear wasn’t an emotion Dean cared to recognize. He tilted his head down, leveling his eyes with Castiel’s, absolutely refusing the smug bastard to have the upperhand here. He didn’t know Dean, he didn’t know everything he’d been through, he didn’t know how Dean had to face himself every morning when he woke, face his brother (oh god, Sam, Sam was totally going to buy this angel crap) with what he’d done, or just face his brother in general. His life was a whole lot more than “deserving to be saved" and he was not going to let this feathery freak objectify him like that.

But when Castiel finally disappeared, with a fairly annoying wing flapping sound (overly dramatic much), Dean couldn’t seem to place the nagging feeling he felt in his chest. It had to be the idea of angels that made him so uncomfortable, or maybe it was some feathery spell that was making his heart beat so quickly. Because it sure as hell couldn’t be anything else.


	2. Paradigm (Are You There God? It's Dean Winchester - 04x02)

"And he had uh," Dean looked down at the blankets, deciding not to mention Castiel’s terrifyingly blue eyes, although not mentioning it felt odd, he just didn’t want to have to deal with Sam’s overthinking. “He had these invisible wings, you could only see the shadows. But he was kind of an assumptious dick."

Sam snorted at Dean, although his eyebrows crinkled in his signature contemplating look.

"You saw the shadow of his wings and you still don’t believe in angels? C’mon, Dean, its not that out there."

"Whatever, Sammy. I don’t need this whole faith crap speech right now. Just put a shirt on so we can go talk to Bobby about it." Sam shrugged and got up from his seat on the edge of one of Bobby’s couches. The one that hadn’t been used last night, due to Sam insisting Dean lie down next to him on the floor mattress for old times sake. Dean had grudgingly crawled under the blankets, pressing his back up against Sam’s bare back and soaking in the warmth through his T-shirt. They would sleep like this when it was cold, or if they just got back from a really dangerous hunt, or back when Sam used to have nightmares. Once or twice, like after Dean made his deal, one would fall asleep in the arms of the other, and wake up either cradling each other, with their limbs entangled, or with someone’s head on the other’s chest. Okay, maybe more than once or twice, maybe it had become a bit of a habit. It wasn’t like they slept together _every_ night. Just, a lot, and more frequently in the past year. Due to the fact that Dean was going to die. Did die, actually. 

Dean's potential death had changed a lot of things between him and Sam, but now that Dean was no longer dead or dying... It wasn't like they had an excuse anymore. There was no "but I'm dying" Dean could tell himself in the mirror. He didn't have a reason anymore to kiss his little brother and therefore he couldn't. How was Dean supposed to...And honestly, after everything that happened in the years they'd been apart, there was a lot more than that holding Dean back. Dean had his reasons, and many of them derived from the red sticky wet flashes of memories attacking his dreams. But Dean wasn't going to think about that, wasn't going to think about Sam like that. Not now, not when everything was already so complicated and Dean just couldn't take it. How was he supposed to...nevermind.

Dean turned his head as Sam put on a shirt, pretending to examine his hair in the mirror, but mostly just avoiding looking at Sam’s new muscles stretch as he tugged a shirt over his hair. (Which didn’t look so bad now that it was dry.) Dean physically shook his head, trying to clear that thought, as Sam asked him curiously.

"You alright?" Dean could feel the concern in his voice.

"Yeah, fine," he said gruffly, standing up and stretching his arms. Yeah, they definitely were sleeping in separate beds tonight. Dean would make sure of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Humans had a name for everything. They overnamed, over thought, overdid everything. Now those words were buzzing through Castiel’s head, words like “denying" being the loudest, among with “feelings" and “wrong." Angels were above emotions, so that’s why the idea of “fear" of feeling emotions couldn’t even be recognized because even the fear of fear is an emotion. But despite the head spinning and bodily denial, there was still that rose in the pit of his soul. Unshakable, despite his earlier attempt of purifying himself, he still felt the realization pumping through his being. Whether it was the trauma of hell, or the shock of walking amongst humans, something opened up Castiel’s barriers and now, he was faced with this. With this feeling.

When his charge engaged into the dream where Castiel was waiting, Dean's first motion was to turn and look for his brother. It was instinct, Castiel knew, that Dean always had to feel where his brother was, always check to see if he was okay. It didn't come as a surprise, but it made a little jab inside Castiel, unfamiliar and quite unwelcome. Just another reason to be guarded and prepared to do anything necessary to keep out the humanlike poison in his soul. So when Dean stood and approached him, Castiel intended to keep his charge in line. If this human knew his place, maybe Castiel’s fluttering soul would learn its place as well.

But once Dean was close enough to touch, Castiel could hardly think of anything but that. Those green eyes were so intense, and behind them Castiel could see another set of eyes, snarling white demonic ones. And even deeper, so hidden Castiel could hardly see them, just a glimpse of a bright, brilliant summer green, green eyes so full of light, so full of love for…Castiel could hardly even see, just a glimmer of hazel eyes. Dean was hiding, even to himself, feelings for hazel eyes? 

"Excellent job with the witnesses." Civility was in need. If Castiel was to remain sane, he must keep the upperhand on this conversation. Dean's eyes darkened and his lips, almost angel worthy lips, were speaking. Very rough, accusing words.

Castiel felt Dean's anger, that suppressed inner anger, being directed towards Castiel. Although a lot of the anger was directed towards himself as well. Castiel could feel Dean judging him, casting him off as just another foe in his life, another barrier. Dean could be the paradigm of synical.

"Why didn't you fight?" This was not going well: Castiel’s heart kept doing this odd thing, almost like he was overworking it, beating quicker than it had a moment before. Unsure of how to react to his change in heartbeat, Castiel narrowed his eyes and set his charge in his place.

"I am not here to perch on your shoulder. We had larger concerns."

"Concerns?" The accusatory tone alone was enough to damage, but the raging look on his charge's face was too much too bear. Castiel would not let emotions bubble into this. He turned his head away from Dean, focusing his thoughts on the matter at hand. The conversation with his charge. Even without looking at Dean's face, Castiel could hear the recrimination in his voice as he threw around more words. He glanced back at Dean once, taking a deep breath, but found his eyes unable to leave again.

"There's a God." Dean of all should know, insulting one's father never ends well. Castiel breathed in deeply again, looking down. If it had been any other human, Castiel would not have the patience for this. He tries to reason with Dean, but Dean is insistent in his ways, and Castiel just throws his hands up. He's trying, but this communication is not going as well as he had planned.

For a moment or two, as he explained the rising of Lucifer, Dean was complacent enough to listen. He was only a foot away, but the space between them felt much smaller than that. It felt like maybe this didn't have to be so bad. Maybe he would be content to just stand here, in front of Dean, because this was a place he felt was right. His heartbeat was still quicker than normal, but that could be examined at a later time. 

Just as Castiel began to think that his charge was going to be reasonable about all of this, Dean struck out again, never content to have a conversation with a happy ending.

"Bang up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That was nice." Castiel was a patient being, but he wasn't required to take this kind of treatment. He was not going to be treated like every other person or creature Dean encountered. Castiel _would_ be an exception in Dean's life, whether Dean wanted it or not.

"You should show me some respect," Castiel could feel Dean's pompous demeanor fading as his eyes began to shift between Castiel and the floor. "I dragged you out of hell, I can throw you back in."

Dean's emotions skyrocketed, playing all over his face. The slight glare of fear in his eyes, which Dean replaced with anger almost instantly, was enough to make Castiel's stomach twist with what a human called guilt. Before even more emotions could seep their way into Castiel's bones, he quickly exited the scene.

Now inside a church he had picked at random, Castiel walked to the basin in the front. He knelt before the holy water, dipping two fingers in and drawing them across his skin. He needed to purify himself of this "emotional distraught." It was like Dean Winchester was a sort of poison, but one Castiel could not, (and did not care to) keep out of his veins.


	3. Perturb (In the Beginning - 04x03)

Castiel looked on as his charge's brother prepared himself to leave. He could feel Sam's hesitance as he looked to his brother, sleeping as peacefully as he would be able to without Sam by his side. Which actually meant not very peacefully at all. Sam turned his head, turning his mind on his emotions at the same time. He longed to stay, to crawl under the covers next to Dean and hold him, but it wasn't as simple as that anymore. Sam closed the door behind him quietly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. 

Cas turned back to Dean, watching as he rolled over, one moment a peaceful expression on his face, and the next, the red flares of hell's memories attacking his features. Castiel wasn't positive if it was Sam's lack of presence that opened up the floodgate to nightmares, but based on the timing, it looked to be the case. If Samuel knew what him leaving did to Dean, Cas wondered whether he would stay. If Dean knew, Castiel was sure he would be upset. After all, Sam's hazel eyes were the ones that matched the eyes in Dean's dreams. So knowing that the remedy to his pain was so close, but selfish enough to stay away, he imagined that would hurt Dean quite a bit.

That, and the fact that he'd have to face up to needing Sam even more than he already does. Which hardly seemed possible, considering Dean breathed air only to be next to Sam.

Maybe it was the wonder of that devotion that made Castiel feel odd. After all, loyalty was an issue in this plot, but Dean certainly seemed to have it. In the people he trusted, at least. 

"Hello Dean. What were you dreaming about?"

Castiel actually meant the question in two ways, not only to bring up his knowledge of Dean's time in hell, but also to infer back to what he was dreaming about before Sam had left. Those hazel eyes, in the dreams of his charge. But Cas doubted that Dean would pick up on that part of the question. It didn't matter much anyways.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean's entire world felt like it was shattering. He watched as Azazel, the one creature that has ruined his entire family, possessed his grandfather, killed his father, and cut a deal with his mother. Dean skidded into the scene 10 seconds too late, 10 seconds away from saving his entire family, his entire future. It broke his heart, his mind, into a million shards of glass as he realized he couldn't stop it. Any of it. It happened anyways.

Dean was nearly about to tip over with the overwhelming thought, that any of the hope he had had over the past few hours had been entirely diminished into nothing. He had let himself believe for a moment that he could save them, save his parents, his Sammy. And he'd failed. He'd failed them all. 

A warm hand landed on Dean's shoulder and Dean nearly jumped, whipping his head around. Castiel stood behind him, the expression on his face matching Dean's, although filled with a comforting sympathy that was so warming Dean nearly turned around and wrapped his arms around the angel. Dean had a feeling that burying his face in Castiel's neck would temporarily solve a lot of his problems. But Castiel's firm hand was almost as grounding as a hug would have been, and Dean let his shoulders relax into the touch. 

Dean looked at Castiel, all of his sadness playing behind his eyes. Castiel looked back like he understood, he knew the pain Dean was going through. Dean was fairly sure that he might have broken down crying if Castiel wasn't here. 

In that moment, which couldn't have been longer than a minute in real life, Dean felt an eternity stretch before him. Castiel had found him at his weakest, and Castiel had somehow made it okay. Just having the angel here was enough. Dean felt like there was something in him that was tethered to Castiel. He didn't know what, or how, but in that moment it felt like Dean had known a the angel for a thousand years. 

Dean was teetering on the edge, he felt so much like he could just lay his entire life in Castiel's hands. And it wasn't just the fact that Castiel was an angel. Dean had told himself that must have been it at first, but for some reason Dean had a feeling it wouldn't be like this with other angels. Or anyone else he ever met, for that matter. 

Dean could've stayed there, letting Castiel encompass him in the soft comfort his touch gave, not leaving for anything. But then suddenly, Dean was back in his bed, sitting up with a start and an extreme rush of pain to his head.

Waking back up in present day was not a pleasant experience. It sent his head reeling, and if Castiel hadn't been standing there, Dean probably would have groaned or complained. This wasn't easy anyways, tonight had been a very stressful, and unfortunately very depressing turn of events. He had to watch his mother make a deal to save his father's life, in turn, throwing away her own. Maybe it really was the Winchester Way, selling your soul for the ones you loved. Didn't make it any easier. In fact, it made it a whole hell of a lot worse. Not to mention he also got this whole demon blood shit dumped on him. Dean furrowed his eyebrows as he remembered the way Samuel had teased him, _are you one of my special children? No, then maybe a lil bro?_. Those words echoed through Dean's head, how Azazel had said "special children" as though Sammy was some sort of freak lab experiment. But even worse than that, like he was _Azazel's_ freak lab experiment.

"I couldn't stop any of it. She still made the deal." God, now this felt like it was his fault. What else could he have done? There had to have been something he could have done. "She still died in nursery, didn't she?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Dean normally would have retorted back with something along the lines of "don't comfort me" but in all honesty he couldn't get the feeling of Castiel's sudden appearance next to him five minutes ago out of his head. The way he'd felt in that moment, with Castiel. Like everything was going to be alright, so long as Castiel was by his side. Now that Dean was out of the moment, he was doing his best to tell himself it was ridiculous. He'd just met this guy, and Dean had never trusted anyone that quickly. If he trusted anyone at all. But, Castiel hadn't been quite as dick-ish today as he normally was. Except the whole zapping him back 30 years thing. "You couldn't have stopped it."

"What?"

"Destiny can't be changed Dean. All roads lead to the same destination." Bastard.

"Then why'd you send me back?"

"For the truth. Now you know everything we do." Dean was confused and hurt and upset. He felt like he had been manipulated in some way. And he was building an extra layer of walls now, now that he had let Cas in. Dean's temporary let down of his guard was scaring him, he didn't do that basically ever, and the longer he sat waiting in this room, getting his questions dodged by the one person he'd actually turned to in his moment of pain, Dean was regretting it more and more. He couldn't so this, Dean didn't have room for more complications. If he let Cas in, entirely, Dean had no idea what could happen. He didn't even know the guy! Besides, the butterfly feeling in his stomach every time Castiel showed up was complication enough. And how Dean kept catching himself staring, unable to keep his eyes off the beauty- goddamnit, not beauty, no, he wasn't going to think like that.

"What the hell are you talking about?" The look on Cas's face was driving Dean insane. He looked at Dean like Dean was broken and confused and stumbling all over. So much pity in his eyes, strange for something that claims to not have emotions. But Castiel didn't answer him, only deliberately shifted his gaze over to the left. Dean followed the gaze, turning around.

Sam's bed was empty. Fuck, why didn't he check earlier? Where the hell did he go? Stupid bastard can't just take off in the middle of the night, god, especially not tonight. Dean _needed_ his brother right now, and he was freaking missing. Something was definitely up with Sammy lately and this, this was too much. Sam seemed to do a lot to perturb Dean lately, there was basically an entire list of things Sam had done to upset him. You don't just _leave_ without telling Dean. (What if he was gone for good, what if this was him running away again, what if he never wanted to be with Dean in the first place, what if he was hurt or lost or dead, what if he-)

Dean looked back to Castiel, thinking maybe Cas had something to do with this. Maybe convince Sam to go somewhere so he and Dean could talk? Although he'd never bothered with that before.

"Where's Sam?"

"We know what Azazel did to your brother, but what we don't know is why. He went to great lengths to cover that up." Dean no longer cared about the "we" of angels Castiel was always talking about. Their problems were not his problems. Sam was literally the only thing he could think about. 

"Where's Sam?" There wasn't enough anger in his voice to portray his inner emotions, but it got the point across.

"425 Waterman." Dean glared at Cas as he passed him. Sammy was the only thing that mattered right now and Castiel was the one who'd made Dean all emotional in the first place and Dean needed someone to glare at. So he did. 

Dean stopped his frenzied preparation, having thrown his jacket on and gotten his weapons in a record speed, when he heard words that absolutely were worth stopping for.

"Stop your brother Dean. Or we will." There it was: a threat to Sammy. From Cas, of all people. 

As he thought about it when he drove, though, it wasn't really a threat from Castiel himself. There was something up with that angel, but Dean had learned to tell the subtle difference between Castiel's own opinion and his superior's orders. One of the biggest clues was the word "we." So technically, it wasn't Cas threatening Sam, it was the Angels as a whole.

Dean wasn't sure this was a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, he was intending to stop Sam first. And willing to do absolutely anything it took to do so.


	4. Depredate (Metamorphisis - 04x04)

It was one of those moments where Sam just sat, a book open in front of him but seeing only Dean's face, that hurt, that disappointment. His brain didn't register the sound of the impala until Dean opened the door, his heels on fire as he swept into the room. He didn't slow for a moment, but Sam was on his feet and inches behind him almost instantly. He reached out to touch Dean's back, but could practically feel the heat rolling off of Dean's body. Sam drew his hand back and threw it into his hair in exasperation. 

Dean just continued, either not noticing Sam's attempt to touch him (unlikely) or not caring. Both sucked. But not as much as now, watching Dean throw things in his bag, grabbing his shirts out of the closet. Sam's throat closed, making it very difficult to breathe for a moment. 

"Dean, what are you doing? Are-are you leaving?" Is this what Dean felt like? Watching Sam pack his bags for Stanford? Sam pushed the thought away, following after his brother. He couldn't do this, couldn't let Dean leave. No way, no how.

"You don't need me. You and Ruby go fight demons." You don't need me. You don't need me. Words that Sam would probably never forget. It had been a long time since Sam had heard those words, and it absolutely tore him apart. Because it meant that Dean honestly felt that lowly about himself. Sam needed Dean more than anything, more than everything, but Dean wouldn't listen to a word of it if Sam even tried. But he tried anyways, reaching out for Dean again. His hand brushed Dean's arm, and Sam almost drew back, the tenseness of his brother's body scaring him a bit. This was the most efficient way to communicate with Dean he had learned. Touch got through when words didn't.

"Hold on. Dean, c'mon man." Sam should have seen it coming. But he didn't, and it hurt like hell. Even more than the physical pain though, was the mental damage. Sam knew it killed Dean to see Sam hurt, and if he was so upset that he was willing to hurt Sam himself, this was even worse than Sam thought. But he'd take it, make this less painful on Dean than it had to be. If Dean knew just how much damage that punch did, (holy shit that man has an iron fist) this entire situation would suck even more.

"You satisfied?" Sarcasm, because that communicated with Dean too. But that just brought him another punch to the jaw, this one making his mouth bleed. In the moment that Sam was left hunched over and facing the floor, he felt his anger build. Doesn't Dean know Sam is doing this for him? Because Dean was gone? Because Dean wanted Sam to save people? Isn't that what he's doing?

"I guess not."

As Dean began to rip into him, it became harder to look at Dean. The dirty motel floor became more the object of focus as Sam looked down through Dean's speech. That hurt in Dean's eyes...Sam couldn't take it. It was too much. But he had to reason with Dean. Which he tried. Tried to make him understand, understand why, understand that this was about _saving people._ (hunting things, the family buisness. Isn't that what Dean wanted?) 

"I saved more people in the past five months than we save in a year!" But then came the kicker:

"Is that what Ruby wants you to think? Is that how she tricked you into using your powers?" Of course Dean would make this about Ruby. He felt betrayed, and even worse, replaced. _She's not replacing you,_ Sam longed to say. He longed to just grab Dean by the biceps and do whatever it took to get some sense into him. Wanted to place his lips over Dean's, smooth the harsh words away, show him that this was all for him, Ruby didn't matter, she isn't anything compared to you, Dean. But he knew he couldn't. Dean would hit him again before he could even have the chance.

As though Dean could read Sam's thoughts, he turned and depredated the table behind him, sending a lamp and a ton of other things flying across the room.

"It's already gone too far Sam." 

Sam just stood as Dean attacked him, I would wanna hunt you echoing through his brain. Over and over. Sam's walls were crashing down now, he didn't have anything else to defend with.

"You were gone." My heart was broken. "I was here." I was alone. "I had to keep on fighting without you." I was missing the other half of my soul. My better half. "And what I'm doing, it works." Like how we used to, we used to work. 

"If it's so terrific, why did you lie about it to me?" Because I wanted to shelter you. Save you from having to deal with my messes too. "Why did an _angel_ tell me to stop you?" 

Sam tilted his head. Dean didn't listen to many people's advice (basically no one's) but he listened to his angel now? What happened while Sam was away to suddenly give Dean this new sense of faith in the angel? How in the world had Castiel broken through Dean's iron barriers?

"Cas said if I don't stop you, he will." Sam's mind was reeling, shit the angels don't understand, or maybe's Dean's right, but at the same time, still trying to figure out how Castiel had managed to threaten Sam and Dean somehow not only didn't kill him, but believed him. Not to mention the way he said it. The way Dean said "Cas" was shockingly familiar to how he said Sam's name. Like it held a special place, like just the one word wasn't enough to sum up everything he needed to say.

"That means that GOD doesn't want you doing this." Dean knew Sam believed in God, knew that'd get to him. "So are you just going to stand there and tell me that everything is all good?"

No. Not when we both have tears in our eyes. Not when you are about to cry. Watching Dean so close to falling apart was killing Sam, killing him in ways he never thought he'd feel pain.

Sam looked at Dean, looked at his broken brother (this is your fault, you're the reason he's so broken) and tried to find the right words to say. 

_Dean, I need you. I need you more than life, more than saving people. You've saved me in every sense of the word and I've done nothing but let you down. I'm sorry, take me back, take me away from here. Let's just go, you and me and the road, spending long nights pressed together and long days talking about all the things we never got to say. I take it back, I'll stop, I'll stop for you, just save me from all this darkness, please._

And the phone rings before Sam can say a word of it.


	5. Nonchalantly (Monster Movie - 04x05)

"Lucky guess," Dean huffed. How the hell did Sammy- never mind. It wasn't that big of a deal or anything. Maybe it was part of his freaky physic powers, you know, reading minds. It better not be though. Because if Sam knew what Dean was thinking half the time...hell, Dean didn't know what Dean was thinking half the time.

But Sam, of course, had to rub it in once they got to the next motel room. Dean dropped his bags on the floor and instantly made for the bathroom to brush his teeth. Oktoberfest was awesome, but damn, that last beer tasted weird. Not to mention the fact that being tied to a wooden board left sawdust in his mouth. Maybe that was imagined, but still. It was weird. Sam had set his bags down next to one of the beds and sat down on the bed, swinging his gigantore legs up too. He leaned back against the pillow, both hands behind his head as he closed his eyes and smiled. Dean rolled his eyes and looked himself over in the mirror, watching Sam out of the top corner. Sam cracked an eye open and met Dean's, chuckling softly as Dean quickly averted his eyes.

"I told you so." 

"Shut up. I'll throw my toothbrush at you, don't test me." Sam just laughed quietly, going back to his resting position. After a few more moments of blissful silence, Dean had washed out his mouth and was now examining his hair. Movement in the mirror caught Dean's eye as Sam opened his eyes and rolled over to his side, propping himself up on an elbow.

"So did you fix your "rehymenation" thing?" Sam put air quotes around the word, actually doing the finger squinchy thing. He was such a geek.

"Are you inquiring of my sexual relations?" Dean mocked, turning to face Sam. Sam looked at him and shrugged wayyy too nonchalantly. 

"I can tell you details if you want," Dean said, advancing towards Sam's bed. Sam sat up and looked Dean straight in the eye. 

"Well, sure, we don't have anything else to do."

That was a surprise. Dean had totally been kidding, now here Sam was being all awkward. Sam saw the look on his face and smirked.

"What, mister big-and-tough has trouble sharing when it comes to show and tell?" 

"One, this is just tell, not show. And two, there's not exactly much to say. It didn't really work out the way I planned, so there. That's that." Dean plopped down on his bed, untying his boots. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean. Dean just shrugged, looking back down at his laces. He kind of jumped when he felt the bed compress next to him as Sam sat down. All that new muscle was freaking heavy, god. Sam's hand landed on his arm, making Dean flinch. 

"You are really jumpy. Everything okay?" Sam looked over Dean's face, searching as though one of Dean's freckles might tell him the answer. Dean made a very conscious effort not to shy away from Sam's eyes. He'd stopped untying his shoes, but Sam reached over and gently took ahold of one, Dean's eyes following Sam's hands. He sat still as Sam finished untying the last loop, carefully tugging it off. It was weirdly sensual and for some reason made Dean tense up even more. Sam noticed the additional tension, but took off the other shoe anyways. Dean looked up at Sam's face, afraid of what his own face looked like. God, Sam made him into such a girl sometimes.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dean cleared his throat and huffed out a response.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam didn't even bother with the usual accepting nod. Apparently he was being really freaking stubborn today. Sam half-jumped, half-scooted all the way onto the bed. Dean watched him out of the corner of his eye as Sam situated himself on his side before reaching out his arm and physically moving Dean's shoulders. What the hell, Dean was not a freaking rag doll. Sam must have sensed Dean's annoyance because his hand hesitated for a moment. But then he was back at it and pushing on Dean's chest, lying him down onto the bed. Dean went along grudgingly and stared at the ceiling. There was no way he was turning over to face Sam though. Even with Sam's persistent hand tugging at his arm. 

Finally Sam gave up on pulling Dean over to face him and just left his arm sprawled across Dean's chest. Dean shut his eyes tight, not in an effort to sleep, but in an effort to make Sam go away and stop bothering him, god damn it.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?"

"Sam, you're my brother, not my goddamn therapist." Dean opened his eyes again, glaring at the ceiling.

"Is that what you want? A therapist?"

"No, dammit, I want you to leave me alone." Dean propped up on his side, turning his death glare and scowl at Sam. God _damn_ it, Sam had gotten him to turn his body. How is it Sam always seemed to win these arguments? There was no use lying back down now, Sam had already won this time.

"You know I can't do that Dean." Sam's voice was low and dangerous sounding, but not in a threatening way, in a very much sexual sort of way.

"Well, you know what, try harder." Sam sat contemplating for a moment before tilting his head to the side. Oh no, that look was never good.

"It's not quite that easy, Dean." Sam swallowed and looked away from Dean for a moment. Finally he met Dean's gaze again, his eyes basically pleading. There was an instant shift in mood, detectable only by Sammy's eyes and the slight speeding up of his heart. 

Dean didn't even know which to block first, Sam's hand wrapping around his lower back or the lips that were rapidly advancing towards his. He settled for blocking Sam's mouth, reaching up his one free hand to place it over Sam's parted lips. It was immature, and downright childish, but hey, it got the job done. However, Sam's hand on his back had brought their bodies flush against each other, and Dean could feel both of their hearts pounding.

"Sam." Dean said sternly. Sam looked at him with wide eyes, almost like he was as surprised as Dean. Dean was doing everything he could not to focus on the warmth of Sam's chest pressed heavy to his. Of the pure muscle of Sam's arm wrapped around him, pinning him tight.

"Just no, okay?" These words were softer, and felt more like an apology than a rejection. Sam nodded and looked away from Dean, mumbling something into Dean's hand. Probably an apology, and Dean wasn't going to push it. Dean released his hand from Sam's mouth, pushing back away from Sam's body slowly. Sam got the message and released his hand from Dean's back, careful for his arm not to brush along Dean's side and just lifting it awkwardly into the air. Dean let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and rolled over onto his back before sitting up.

"So we'll look for a new hunt in the morning, yeah? Long day and I'd like some sleep." _In my own bed_ were the words that went unspoken, but both boys heard very loud and clear. Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who lay staring at the ceiling. Sam nodded, not returning Dean's gaze. 

"'Kay. Well, g'night then." 

"Yeah, g'night." Sam's words were quiet, but Dean didn't continue the conversation. He probably should have explained, or at least apologized, but talking about feelings was definitely not something on Dean's favorite thing to do list. 

So he stood and readied himself for bed, eventually climbing into the other one. (Wasn't this one originally Sam's? Whatever, it didn't matter. Sam was clearly not getting up to switch.) But it was a long time before he fell asleep, because Dean had never been able to sleep when his heart was pounding out of his chest. Or with the image of what could have just happened replaying itself every time Dean closed his eyes. Looks like he wasn't getting his four hours after all.


	6. Dismayed (Yellow Fever - 04x06)

Maybe Sam was a horrible person, but there was a part of him that felt more exhilarated than he had in ages. Dean was terrified, of everything, and he turned to Sam. In his fear, he was reaching out, grabbing for, clutching at Sam. And Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't soaking up every second.

Dean slipped on his way into the new room, hands instantly flew to Sam's jacket. And held on a few minutes too long for Sam to ignore. Exploring the mill, Dean's hand was holding on to Sam's wrist the entire time. Eventually Sam looked pointedly down at it, showing Dean so Dean knew too. Dean drew his hand back guiltily, although that hadn't really been Sam's intention. Dean was turning to him automatically and Sam was pretty sure Dean didn't even notice he was doing it.

It wasn't Sam's fault if he was enjoying it. And maybe taking advantage of it just a little. When they were walking through the old folks home, a nurse rounded the corner with an IV bag and scared the wits out of Dean. So yeah, maybe Sam had used it as an opportunity to place his hand over the curve of Dean's spine. And yeah maybe he'd rubbed his hand down Dean's back for comfort, sliding off just above where his back sloped outwards to...other places Sam was not letting himself think about. 

The fear was a bit amusing as well, although kind of inconvenient. And it actually started scaring Sam at one point. He had no idea how far this was gonna go or how bad it would get for Dean. Pretty quickly, Sam was clinging back to Dean, maybe because the clock was ticking down again and Dean could have a heart attack any second now and Sam couldn't lose Dean again. If Dean panicked, if it got to the point Sam couldn't bring him back down to okay...

The only problem is, Dean went into a rage and then suddenly he was gone, storming off before Sam even realized he was serious. Then Sam was searching everywhere and anywhere, because honestly where would Dean go when he was terrified? Throughout the rest of the day so far, Dean had come running towards Sam. Now that he was off on his own, he could be anywhere. It was only a last resort as Sam stumbled back into the motel room.

The pounding in his heart finally slowed as he breathed as sign of relief. Dean was sitting in their motel room, looking more than a little dismayed. It was like a weight had lifted off of Sam's shoulders, knowing Dean was okay. But still, the bastard did not have to run off like that, leaving Sam nearly as terrified as Dean had been acting all day.

"I looked everywhere for you Dean!" Dean looked down a little guiltily before returning Sam's gaze. Dean's suit was rumbled and his hair was even more disheveled than usual. He was breathing heavier than normal, almost like he'd been in a fight or something. "How the hell did you get here?"

"Ran," Dean said, his face still stricken with that half-terror expression he's been wearing all day. Sam blinked, a little surprised. He must have been running from something, based on how out of breath he was and how far the hotel was from where Sam had last seen Dean. But Dean was hardly to blame, he was dying again after all. And a lot more scared than he had ever been in his life. Sam just sighed and sat down on the couch next to Dean. Dean looked nervously over at Sam. Sam could feel Dean's racing heartbeat from all the way over here Dean was so distressed.

"What do we do now? I've got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna die Sammy." Those last words hit Sam deep inside and he turned to face Dean.

"Dean, I'm not going to let that happen. I swear, I'll figure this out. I'm not losing you again. Not now, not eve-" Dean's face twisted with confusion about halfway through Sam's speech, and he wasn't looking Sam in the eyes. Sam stopped his speech temporarily, looking at Dean confusedly.

"Back?" Dean said, still not looking at Sam. Back? Where the hell did that come from?

"Um, Dean, are you alright?" Sam stood, stepping closer to Dean as Dean's face contorted with pain and confusion. Out of nowhere, Dean jumped up and backed himself into the wall. 

"No!" Dean shouted, panting heavily. "Get out of my brother, you evil son of a bitch!"

Sam's heart started pounding, fear racing through him. Dean must be hallucinating Sam being possessed again. No, no, no, no.

"Dean!" Sam crossed the room and placed his hands on Dean's trembling chest. "Dean, it's alright, I'm here. It's me, I swear, 100% Sammy okay? Dean!"

Dean wasn't hearing anything Sam was saying, and his heartbeat was getting unhealthily fast. Much more of this and Dean's heart was going to give out. No, no, no, Sam had to do something, had to bring Dean out of this. He was not going to lose his brother again. So Sam did the only thing he could think to do to snap Dean out of it.

He brought his hands to cradle Dean's terrified face, leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Dean's lips were parted, but it was like kissing a wall. Dean wasn't responding at all. Sam moved his mouth against Dean's, slotting their lips together and trying to get any sort of response from Dean. Dean's lips weren't trembling as much as they had been a moment before, but he wasn't responding much in any other way. Sam kissed him as softly as he could stand to, fighting the urge to kiss Dean like he'd been longing too ever since Dean had gotten back from hell. He just wanted to push Dean down on some shabby motel room bed and kiss him with all the passion and pain and longing he had felt while Dean was dead. Words couldn't do that time apart justice, but he knew Dean would understand with touch. And maybe if he understood how Sam had felt while Sam was away, maybe he'd understand why Sam had to use his powers. 

But Sam knew that Dean wasn't ready for that, whatever the reason may be. So he kissed him like it was their first kiss, (and if Dean truly had been rehymenated, it would have been) all plump lips sliding against each other. Dean's lips were as perfect as ever, but Sam was on a mission. He _had_ to wake Dean up. Although this didn't really seem to be working. Just as Sam was about to pull away, Dean's lips began to move against his. Sam separated their mouths gently, running his hands back down to Dean's chest.

Recognition was dawning back in Dean's eyes, thank god.

"Hey, hey, hey, Dean. Hey, hey, Dean. Dean!" Dean had begun to fall forwards, his hallucination no longer keeping him pressed against the wall. Sam kept his hand over Dean's heart, his eyes searching Dean's to see if Dean was back on planet earth.

Dean looked at him, and actually saw him. He stared at Sam for a moment before looking down. He was breathing heavy, but he nodded slightly, letting Sam know he was okay. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and stepped backwards. He was fairly sure Dean had no idea how Sam brought him out of his hallucination, but Sam certainly wasn't going to tell him how. He was definitely not in the mood for either getting screamed at by a half-crazy lunatic or getting his ass whooped once Dean started acting like Dean again.


	7. Repugnance (It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester - 04x07)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ******** symbolizes a shift in POV from the characters.

Dean felt a little humming in his chest as Sam reached into his coat pocket to grab the motel keys. Dean turned around, stepping off the sidewalk as he glanced around expectedly. Huh, maybe the fluttering was something else, although he could've sworn he'd felt like Castiel was standing right behind him-

"Who are you?" Dean heard Sam shout and instantly registered. Shit, Cas was in the motel room.

"Sam, Sam wait!" Dean was shouting before he even crossed the threshold. He didn't need to see Castiel to know it was him, but Dean still came rushing in, reaching out a hand to stop Sam. Dean visibly relaxed when he saw Castiel sitting on his bed. Although, now that Dean thought about it, a bullet wound from Sam wouldn't do much to harm Castiel. Well now he felt like a moron for freaking out and worrying.

"It's Castiel." Sam looked over to Dean as Dean stepped close and put a hand out to lower Sam's gun. "The angel."

An unrecognizable expression played across Sam's face. What in the world could Sam be overthinking now? Dean looked over to the window, seeing a tall black man.

"Him I don't know."

Dean watched as Castiel rose to greet Sam. For a guy, he was pretty damn graceful. He like, flowed, when he moved. It was weird. Or maybe the fact that Dean was thinking about it was weird.

"Hello Sam." Sam's expression lit up like a little kid who finally got his favorite toy for Christmas. He was fangirling actually, and it was quite embarrassing. Like every other time Sam was emotional, he turned to Dean, smiling open-mouthed before turning back to Castiel.

"Oh my god." Wow, Dean was so going to punch Sam for that later. What a geek. "Er, uh, I didn't mean to, sorry."

Dean looked over at Sam, _is he really actually doing this right now_ written all over his face. What the hell Sam. (Even if his excitement was pretty cute, this was definitely not Dean's first reaction to meeting Cas.)

"It's an honor. Really, I-I've heard a lot about you." _Not everything,_ Dean thinks, remembering leaving out the part about how attractive Castiel was and how his chest did this odd seizing thing every time they met. He turned away from the awkward conversation, going to close the motel door. This was going to be interesting.  
 ********  
Sam stuck out his hand to Castiel, kind of twitching it once as Castiel just stood there. Maybe angels didn't handshake, of course Sam, don't be an idiot. You already came across as one. Sam was just about to pull his hand back as Castiel finally looked down, analyzing Sam's hand before he reached forward and took ahold in a sort of awkward shake. Just, without letting go.

"And I, you." Sam never realized it until now, but Dean never mentioned anything about Castiel's appearance. He wondered if it was on purpose. Probably not, knowing Dean. "Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

Excuse me? Um, that wasn't exactly the foot he wanted to get off on with Castiel, but everything about this was weird and confusing anyways. 

"I'm glad to hear you've seized your extracurricular activities." Both of Castiel's hands were wrapped around Sam's, making him suddenly feel more like he was being trapped and interrogated than simply introduced.

"Let's keep it that way." The black man spoke, and Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. This was not at all how he pictured angels. Sam looked back and forth between the two, trying to figure out exactly where his mental image got so crazy far off.

"Yeah, okay, chuckles." Sam heard Dean's voice, close behind him, and felt a little of his tension ease. Although all of Dean's attention seemed to be directed towards Castiel. "Who's your friend?" 

"The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?" Castiel spoke. That sounded a lot more like Cas was blaming Sam than asking a question. He only looked at Sam for a moment before turning his body to face Dean. 

"Why?" Dean said, shifting his weight. Sam could've answered that, thank you very much. 

"Dean, have you located the witch?"

"Yes, we've located the witch."

"And is the witch dead?" Hello, Sam was right here. Neither Dean nor Cas seemed to notice anyone else was in the room.

"No, but we-" Sam tried to interject himself into the conversation.

"Know who it is." Dean finished for Sam. But it didn't feel like one of their normal united front moments where they finished each other's sentences, it felt a lot more like Dean having a conversation with Castiel and quite happily excluding Sam from it. Something was going on here and Sam hated not knowing. Especially when it was about his brother.  
 ********  
Castiel saw the nonchalant look on Dean's face and realized he had no idea how important this was.

"Apparently the witch knows who you are too. This was inside the wall of your room." Sam leaned his weight back and looked to his brother. Dean was standing in front of Sam, but shifted his eyes toward's Sam's direction as though he could see him. Despite being a few feet in front of him, Dean still managed to shift his weight in perfect time with his brother, both of them silently communicating their own conversation. Castiel almost felt like an intruder, watching on in their silent form of connecting. It was odd to see humans so in tune to each other, he'd never seen anything quite like it. Castiel cast his eyes down to avoid having to witness anymore of their subconscious conversations.

"If we hadn't found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?" Castiel's eyes were on the floor but he still saw Dean turn and look at Sam, neither of them saying a word and neither of them needing to. Heaven's light, even their breathing was in sync. Like the two of them had agreed upon, Dean spoke for both of them.

"We're working on it." Castiel could still not bring himself to look at Dean quite yet.

"That's unfortunate."

"What do you care?" Castiel looked over to Uriel, trying to get a read on the other angel. He was clearly still set in his ways.

"The raising of Samhain is one of the sixty-six seals." Castiel finally turned back to Dean, watching the recognition dawn across his face.

"This is about your buddy Lucifer."

"Lucifer is no friend of ours." Uriel entered the conversation, his voice dark with repugnance.

"It's just an expression." Dean sassed. Castiel stepped closer to Dean, close enough to be able to see all the angles of God's work in perfection. It was more than distracting, but Castiel kept his gazing as minimal as possible. He feared just what exactly Uriel could pick up on, and if he, or any of the other angels, saw what was in Castiel's mind, it would not end well for any of them.  
 ********  
As Uriel turned around though, he saw exactly what Castiel intended him not to. Watched as the other angel took careful steps, each one placed in mind with how close he was to his charge. Each turn of his shoulders was as if to further situate himself better to that mudmonkey. He could practically feel the emotions rolling off Castiel's chest, his attempt to not look too closely into the green eyes in front of him that captivated him so.

If all of that wasn't enough, Castiel's wings were the biggest clue. They were folded across his back in a resting manner, but every time the human spoke to Castiel, they would ripple and shift, seeming to capture the words like sunlight. It was sickening actually.

Uriel filed all of this away for later, for when he would need it. Because there would be a day when he could use his brother's sick obsession with his charge to his advantage. And oh, how he planned on doing just that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dean wasn't sure why Cas had confided in him, and it was actually taking a lot of practice not to focus on that. Dean just couldn't get it out of his mind, and it was the only thing he was thinking about as he kicked back on nameless motel bed number infinity. 

Sam plopped down on his respective bed, kicking up his feet the same way Dean did, although he didn't have a bottle of beer in hand. Which he totally didn't need anyways, not the way Dean did. Although Sam did look pretty bummed. Probably because of the whole angel-are-dicks thing. Dean had told Sam in the car what Cas had said about their true orders, which were to follow Dean's orders, but Sam still had that peeved look on his face. Well, he had found out his idols were total douchebags, which had to majorly suck, so it was understandable if Sam was upset. Unless it was about something else. In that case, Dean had an obligation to ask. 

"What's eatin you?" Dean asked, putting a bit of emphasis on the you as he tipped back his beer with one hand and reached for the TV remote with the other. Sam rolled his eyes, probably at the drinking, but Dean could care less what Sam thought about him drinking. 

"I really hate Halloween." Sam said dejectedly. He was one to talk, with his powers breaking the rules and the promise he'd made to not use them. There was no point in staying pissed about it, it wasn't like that would change anything. So Dean just huffed a sound of agreement and flipped through channels until he found something decent. 

Just when Dean found a channel airing the opening credits of a movie, Sam broke the silence again. This time Dean turned his head, looking over at Sam stumbling over his hesitant words. 

"Dean, did you-- did you notice something strange about Castiel?" Sam didn't meet Dean's eyes, he kept his head dipped and eyes down. Sam was tracing over a square of bright blue colour in the middle of the comforter, watching his hand like he was mesmerized. Dean stared at Sam and his weird tracing for another beat or two, but Sam didn't look up. Finally Dean sighed and appeased Sam and his crazy questions. 

"You mean besides the fact that they tried to wipe out over a thousand people?" 

"Well yeah, but I meant like...the way he acted. Around you." Sam glanced up at Dean finally, and was greeted with raised eyebrows and a dubious look on Dean's face that was daring Sam to finish that thought. 

There wasn't anything strange about the way Cas talked to him. The guy had no sense of personal space, but that didn't mean anything. Sam was just reading into it too much, right? Of course right. Besides, how _could_ the angel act different around just Dean? Dean was a pain in the ass, and even if he wasn't, angels didn't seem to harbour any opinions of their own. Well, besides Castiel starting to question his orders, but that was only for Dean to know. And it wasn't like it meant anything. There was nothing for it to mean. 

"He just seemed kind of... I don't know, into you." Dean choked on the swig of beer he had just tipped back into his mouth, Sam's words catching him totally off guard. He did not think Sam was going to say anything else, let alone...that. 

Once Dean choked on his beer, Sam stopped tracing the bedsheets and quickly spilled out an attempt at a refute to save his ass. 

"I mean, not like that -- well maybe -- but he just stood really close and he seemed to only want to talk to you when there were four of us in that room and I'm pretty sure he..." Sam trailed off, noticing Dean's expression. He flicked his eyes down to his hands uncomfortably clasped in his lap. He spoke up again, sounding defeated. "I don't know, maybe I'm just overanalyzing it."

"Yeah, Sam, definitely overanalyzing it." Dean held out the remote and turned up the volume on the movie, finalizing the end of the conversation. Sam seemed to catch the hint and fell into silence, glancing at Dean a few times before relenting to watch the movie. 

Dean let his brain switch into inactive mode, turning off all thoughts of angels and demons and Sam's powers and park benches and electric blue eyes staring into his own. He could deal with it all some other time, aka never. If Dean thought about it, he'd end up the same mumbling mess Sam was. So he'd do what he always did when it came to upcoming potential problems. 

Promptly pretend they didn't exist.


	8. Enervated (Wishful Thinking - 04x08)

"Dean wake up!" Dean blinked his eyes open, registering the dark motel ceiling (not the dark red moist ceiling of hell) and sat up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. All he wanted was some nice, peaceful shut-eye and he had to relive all that shit over again. Just great.

"I'm up, I'm up. What?" The room was kind of reeling, but that could also have been the treacherous sandwich he'd eaten earlier. Sam's concerned voice echoed behind him, but Dean purposefully didn't turn around, not wanting Sammy to see the enervated look on his face.

"Sleep well?" Dean didn't bother answering immediately, just rubbed his face to try to clear those images out of his mind. He reached down next to the bed for the bottle he'd placed there earlier. His motor skills were a little off so it took a little too long to opened the lid.

"Damn rested and ready." He swigged down a generous gulp, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing a little at the burn in the back of his throat.

"Dean. You think I can't see it?" Sam's voice sounded a little betrayed, but Dean wasn't going to have this conversation right now. 

"See what?" He turned to face Sam, trying to blow this off as quickly as possible. Sam sighed, looking sadly back at Dean.

"The nightmares, the drinking. I'm with you 24/7, I know something's going on." Well that part was true, but this wasn't fair. Dean tossed the bottle on the bed, throwing up a hand in defeat.

"Sam, please." It was a rare occasion that Dean pleaded, and even this one sounded more like a demand than a request. 

"Uriel wasn't lying, you are." Dean stood up, not liking his back being to Sam in a fight. And that's exactly what this was turning out to be. Sam still sat in his chair, as calm as ever, with his worried little puppy dog face on. "You remember hell, don't you?"

Why was Sam so set on this? What was it to him? It didn't matter. I mean, Dean appreciated the concern and all, but Sam could mind his own damn business. He was acting like Dean's worried little wife.

"What do you want from me, huh? What?" 

"The truth, Dean. I mean, I'm your brother. I-I just wish you'd talk to me." Oh well that was poetic. Dean didn't talk to anyone, no thank you. He made a face and cocked his head, smiling. He was probably being a dick, but hey, his charmer smile worked on anyone. Especially Sam.

"Careful what you wish for." 

"Forget you," Sam mumbled. When Dean turned back to look at Sam, he felt kind of bad. Sammy actually looked pretty butthurt about this. God, he was such a girl sometimes.

"C'mon. Can we stall the couples therapy and get back to this? I wanna work. What do you got?" Sam made a bitch face at him as soon as he said couples therapy. But when Dean asked him about the case, Sam turned his head and looked down, swallowing hard like he did when he was trying not to get upset (and when he was trying to hold back tears).

"Please?" Dean asked, making this Sam's decision. If Sam kept pressing him about it, he'd probably spill, and he thinks Sam knows that too. But Sam looks back at him, his face a little more under control as he just sighs.

"You do realize you have to be a couple to have couples therapy." _Too bad you act like we are anyways._ Dean rolls his eyes at Sam, secretly grateful this conversation took a turn of events. This was a much easier of a topic to drop than lying to Sam about hell.

Sam just sat looking at Dean, his face saying he knew everything Dean was thinking. And he probably did too.

"Sam, let's not go there, okay? It's just, been stressful lately, and a little less inquiring on hell would be nice." Dean wasn't sure if Sam would notice Dean's failure to comment on the couple comment. Based on the bitchy sigh and rolling eyes, Sam had noticed. But hey, at least he didn't try to kiss-attack Dean again. That was a start, right?

Although maybe he spoke a little too soon. Sam stood up, crossing the three foot distance between them with one stride. Freaking gigantore legs.

"Yes, I noticed you didn't answer that." Sam said quietly, his face higher over Dean's then normal, due to Dean still sitting down. Dean felt small and vulnerable and it was not a very good feeling. If Sam pinned him down now, there was no way Dean could block him. But wait, did Sam just read his mind, or?

"Did you just read my mind?" Dean cocked his head, looking at Sam curiously. Sam snorted, using Dean's temporary confusion to his advantage and placing a hand on Dean's bicep before Dean could lift an arm to stop Sam's advance on him. Or to sprint for the door.

"No, I didn't. I just know you, remember that whole "with you 24/7" conversation we just had?" Dean tilted his head in his yeah-okay face. Normally he would have found a way out of this situation by now, but he hadn't been this close to Sam in a while (besides the other day but still, it used to be a daily thing. Ish) and it was kind of throwing him of his game. 

Lately, Dean was doing a lot of thinking and not a lot of reacting, which would explain why he didn't see it coming when Sam's hands were suddenly on Dean's chest, pushing him back roughly onto the bed. Dean scrambled for some sort of control in the situation, but Sam's mouth was on his before he could protest. Sam's body weight was pinning Dean in a very warming and safe sort of way, and despite his feeble attempts to escape, Dean was pretty much as into this as Sam was. Probably more, but he didn't want to think about that.

He kissed Sam back, groaning slightly at the familiar and much-missed taste of his brother. Sam's hair was falling all over Dean's cheeks and forehead, the soft strands making his skin tingle. Dean got his hands up to Sam's back, running up the length of his spine to the curve of his neck. Sam pushed the kiss to go deeper, his hands moving from Dean's arms up to his hair. Sam slid his tongue over Dean's bottom lip and Dean parted them a bit, not consciously realizing just how much he needed this. He longed to push up into that warm body and open his mouth to Sam, but this was a lot to take and his body may possibly go into shock if he takes any more. Besides, there was still that one major thing bothering him, his reason for avoiding Sam. So Dean tried to pull back. He's pinned down though, and seriously needs a different escape route. Dean wriggled his hands in between their bodies and pushed up, kind of hard, on Sam's chest. Sam's freaking heavy, so it doesn't move him much, but it's enough for Sam to notice and break the kiss. He lifts his head, hovering over Dean. His eyes are glued to Dean's lips, which Dean is like 99% sure are bruised and swollen. Dean waits until Sam turns his gaze up to Dean's eyes.

When Sam finally meets his eyes, Dean feels like he can see straight into Sammy's soul. All of that pain, and confusion, and longing. It killed him to see Sammy hurting, especially when he knew he was the cause of it. But this was all too much too soon and Dean just couldn't function with that.

"Give me some time, okay?" Dean barely whispered it, the words more felt than heard. Sam swallowed and nodded quickly, rolling off of Dean and standing up before Dean even had a chance to brush his fingers across Sam's cheek. Dean was suddenly left feeling very empty, and pretty cold too, with a tingling sensation on his lips. Because Sam had sat down at his computer and started talking about the case (and couldn't see Dean with his back to him) Dean put his fingertips to his lips, savoring the feeling of how full and invigorated they felt. 

It would be a while before he got back on his game it seemed, but maybe he was wrong to keep Sam in the dark about what he remembered from hell. He'd tell Sam, he decided, as soon as the case was over. At least, he'd tell him that he did remember. That was a start, right?


	9. Discretionary (I Know What You Did Last Summer 04x09)

Dean spit more blood into the sink, grimacing as he accidentally moved his shoulder. He hadn't been this beaten up in a while, and it certainly wasn't something he missed. 

"You almost done?" Dean asked, staring at his reflection and doing everything he could not to think of the reason behind all this damage. Alistair, Alistair was back and this was bad, bad news.

"Going as fast as I can," Sam huffed, his words laced with pain. More like dripping with pain. Dean turned around, partially glad Sam was too preoccupied to see the concern on his face. But turning around hurt like a _bitch_ and Dean couldn't take this much longer.

"Good, cause you know I've got a dislocated shoulder over here," he complained, walking closer to Sammy. 

"Yeah," Sam managed to breathe out, his voice hitching. Dean felt really odd, standing here and watching Sam stitch himself up. He'd never seen Sam stitch himself up before, and to be honest, he was pretty sure Sam had never stitched himself up before hell. Sam had never hunted without Dean, so Sam had never had to heal himself. It was always the two of them doctoring each other, strong calloused hands carefully dressing wounds and stitching cuts. Dean kind of wanted to just go over there and take the needle from Sam, give Sam some bullshit excuse about him going too slow (he was slower than Dean though) and just stitch up the damn cut for him. Dean really didn't like just standing here and not feeling needed. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he'd always liked being the one to fix Sam. 

It had started when they were younger. Sam would go fall on the concrete or something and then come running inside with tears streaking through the dust on his cheeks and crying out for Dean. Dean would always drop whatever he was doing and rush to Sammy, dropping to his knees in front of him to inspect the damage. He'd stroke Sam's soft and wild hair, thumb his tears away.

"These are gonna be some awesome battle wounds, Sammy. Chicks dig scars, you know." Sam would giggle quietly and (depending on just how young he was), let Dean sweep him off his feet and carry him to their bedroom. Dean would sit Sam down on the edge of his bed, reaching underneath the bed for a first aid kit. Then Dean would dress to all of Sam's wounds, carefully cleaning out the gravel from his knees or the mud caked onto a cut. He'd be more careful then than he would be at any other time in his life. He'd wrap Sam up gingerly, doing everything he could not to cause pain. And to distract Sam from it all, Dean would tell him stories, battle stories of scars. Those were Sam's favorite stories to hear from Dean. He always thought that Dean had the coolest scars (Chicks dig scars, you know) and it made him feel discretionary when Dean would share with Sam how he got them. It was like a new side of Dean, and one that Sam knew he got to keep all to himself. He was the only one who knew the truth behind the light scatter of scars on Dean's left ribcage, or the Y-shaped cut on his hand. It made Sam smile every time Dean fixed him up. If Sam had been any less Sam and a little more reckless, he probably would have fallen down a bit more often, just so Dean would carefully stitch him up with all the tenderness that Sam didn't get to see very often. 

The first time Sam had to stitch up his own wounds after Dean had gone to hell, he'd hardly been able to do it. He'd gotten out the sewing needle and antiseptic, but as soon as he thread the needle eye, the tears started to come. Sam started shaking with tears, his body jolting and dropping the needle. His mind was flooded with the million and one times Dean had fixed him up, all the way from when he was five ("See? All better now, Sammy. Told you you'd be just fine. You're so strong Sammy, gonna be a great man some day, I know it.") to the more recent years, when Dean would still stitch him up (just as careful as ever) and tell stories of hunts he went on in the two years Sam had been away ("Alright, there you go. Fixed your pretty ass, so try not to go get it all cut up again, will you? And you say I'm the reckless one, man. Just, be more careful, okay Sammy?").

With Dean's face swarming his mind, Sam managed to stop crying (after about an hour), but by that time his wound was already caked over in blood. He washed it off, not letting himself cry out in pain, knowing that no matter what Sam was going through right now, Dean was going through hell. (literally.) So Sam could fucking deal with a gouge on his forearm. At least it was an easy spot to stitch up, it could have been on his back or something. He'd have to be more careful now, because it'd be difficult to stitch himself up if he got to injured, and he couldn't rely on Dean to do it for him anymore. So Sam found the needle again and slid it into his skin, tears dripping down from his cheeks and stinging the wound. It took probably half an hour, but he got it done eventually. And from that day on, Sam didn't cry again when he stitched himself up. He just sat numbly, like a good soldier, not speaking because he knew his voice would be shot with pain. He could control his tears now, but he couldn't control the pain when Dean wasn't there with his rough warm hands to nurse him back to health.

"I'll pop it back when I'm finished." Sam's voice broke through both of their memories. Dean blinked and the image of tiny Sam went away, replaced with the much bigger Sam of today, still sitting on the bed and stitching himself up. Dean grabbed a bottle of alcohol (it really didn't matter what it was) and swigged it down. Dean watched as Sam snipped the string with scissors, his breathing ragged with pain. 

"Gimme that." Dean was a little surprised at first, but hey, pain calls for alcohol, right? But Sam dumped the alcohol on his cut, cleaning out the bacteria. Sam's face twisted with pain, and Dean's did as well, with sympathy. Yeah, that would hurt like a bitch. But this was getting a little too intense for Dean, so definitely time for a topic change.

"So you lost the magic knife, huh?" 

"Yeah, saving your ass." Ouch. So Sam was in a little pain. Fair enough, but Dean was not exactly going through a cakewalk over here with his shoulder. "Who the hell was that demon?"

"No one good." Dean tried to get a read on Sam's curiosity, but he still seemed pretty engrossed in the slash on his arm. "We gotta find Anna."

"Ruby's got her, I'm sure she's okay. Alright, C'mon." Sam stood, blowing off the Ruby topic way too quickly. There was something going on there.

But Dean obliged, letting Sam get behind him. And he will swear to his dying day, as Sam bent him over the bed to fix his shoulder, Dean was absolutely thinking of nothing other than demons and dislocated shoulders. Absolutely was not thinking about the fact that Sam was bending him over a bed. No sir. 

But at least his mind was preoccupied when Sam (the tricky bastard said on 3 and popped it after 1 what the hell) wrenched his shoulder back into place. Suddenly all of Dean's mental images slipped away and were replaced with sparking white hot pain. Dean screamed out, instantly stumbling away from Sam as fast as he could. Had to walk off the hurt. Fuck, that was motherfucking painful. Dean looked at himself in the mirror and huffed out a breath, clenching his bad arm. Goddamn it, he was not jumping out any second story windows again anytime soon.

But he still had things he had to talk about with Sam, and what better time when they both were in too much pain to move, right? That way, if Sam's Ruby story ended up being as bad as Dean figured it was going to be, at least Dean wouldn't have the urge to punch Sam. God, even the thought of punching hurt. But they had to get this conversation over with some time or another, so here goes.

~*~*~*~*~

Dean had been hoping it hadn't been like that, but the play by play of the dialogue made it so obvious Dean's stomach hurt. Watching Sam tell the story was bad enough, listening to the words was just downright painful. Dean could see the traces of the depression and the alcoholism still lingering in Sam's shoulders as memories he couldn't let go. He didn't look at Dean much in the story, which was just as well, because Dean couldn't keep the twisted expression if his face as Sam portrayed the scene. 

_"Just give it time, Sam. It'll get better."_

_"What? I need more practice?"_

_"I'm not talking about pulling demons. I know losing Dean was --"_

_"Hey! I don't want to talk about it."_ Apparently, no one was allowed to say Dean's name. Or talk about him at all. Dean remembered what that was like, during the hours Sam had been dead and Bobby kept saying his name and Dean couldn't take it. _"You know what? Where do you get off slapping me with that greeting-card, time-heals crap? What the hell do you know?"_

 _"I used to be human. And I still remember what it feels like to lose someone. I'm sorry."_ Dean bristled as Sam said Ruby placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. That demon bitch, she had no right to touch him. To try to comfort him about Dean. 

_"Uhn-huh. Don't. I can't."_ No no no. That was bad. Sam should've said I won't, because then it would've been about Sam's choices. I can't meant Sam felt obligated not to, that meant he was still holding on to Dean in...that way. That Sam somehow considered it cheating. But they weren't together, Dean was gone, why hadn't Sam gotten that through his head?

 _"Sam, you're not alone."_ Dean fought back the burst of triumphant pride he felt when Sam pushed Ruby off and walked away from her. It was none of Dean's business who Sam hooked up with while Dean was gone. And it wouldn't have anything to do with Dean if he hadn't been gone either. They were _not_ together.

_"What are you doing?"_

_"Sam, it's okay!"_

_"No, that is anything but okay!"_

_"What's wrong?"_

_"What's wrong? Where do I start?"_ At least Sam had his brain working. It would take a lot for Ruby to draw him off the edge. Sam knew it was wrong, he sounded disgusted even. Dean felt that same tug of victory followed by the familiar twist if guilt that he shouldn't be thinking this way.

 _"Is it because of the body? Because I told you -- it's all me inside of here. There is no one else. And it's nice inside this body, Sam. Soft and warm."_ The bitch was totally playing to the fact that Sam hadn't had sex with anyone for over a year. And Dean was supposed to hate her less after Sam's story?

 _"What are you doing?"_ "She straddled me, sat on my lap and pressed her tiny body against mine." So okay, Sam might cave because if his primal need to get off once in a while, but Dean still wasn't convinced Ruby could get Sam to go there with her. That is, until the kicker came.

_"Isn't it 'cause you're really scared to go there with a demon?"_

She paused before the word demon, leaving plenty of room for a different word to fit there. All the colour left Dean's face in a rush that made his head spin. Pale as a ghost, Dean just stared at Sam. He couldn't ignore the parallel Ruby was forming. Apparently, neither could Sam.

_"Because it's wrong and it's bad and we shouldn't?"_

 

That was how. That was how Ruby got to him, the cheap, dirty skank. She knew exactly what Sam wanted, what Sam was craving so badly. Sam wanted back that "wrong, bad, we shouldn't." He wanted that because that's exactly what he had had with Dean. And Ruby _knew_ that. She knew Sam was pining for him and for the "it's wrong." 

Sam had been hanging on by a thread, and Ruby had severed it, string Sam up with her own filthy twine and making him feel like it was Dean all along. _Isn't it cause you're really scared to go there with your brother?_. 

Dean was going to puke. She'd manipulated Sam, twisted herself into something Sam wanted, and giving him more than Dean ever had. She fucked herself on Sam, letting him take out all if his pain and his pent up _it's bad, we shouldn't_ on her, soaking up his heartache and screwing him through it. 

He couldn't listen to this anymore. Dean couldn't listen to Ruby use him, pretend to be him in some sick, twisted way for Sam's sake. She's royally fucjed with Sam's head, made him think that he needed her that way, because there had been a part of him that needed Dean that way once. Yeah, they'd never had sex, never come anywhere close, but those words Ruby fucked into Sam's mind were shouting so loud Dean would hear their echo for eternity. 

Dean stopped Sam then, made him skip over it, using the excuse of nudity making him uncomfortable. Which yeah, it was weird to listen to from Sam's mouth about him screwing someone, but Dean wouldn't have interrupted the story if he didn't think he was honestly about to go heave up his diner breakfast in the toilet. 

So Sam skipped ahead in his story, and Dean had to listen to a part that was list as bad. Just as bad. Worse. It didn't matter, Dean wasn't comparing which half if the story sucked more, he was just generally all around disgusted and hurt and fighting the bike in his stomach. 

"Ruby came back for me. Whatever you have to say, she saved me. More than that, she got through to me. What she said to me... It's what you would've said. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here."

Sam wouldn't be here. Sam wouldn't be here. Dean honestly could not begin to fathom the pain of having to come have topside and find out Sam had committed suicide. It had never crossed Dean's mind before now, that Sam might have killed himself without Dean. Sam might have _killed himself_. Dean's nausea was suddenly accompanied by vertigo and he had to freeze in place to try to keep the world on its axis. 

His Sammy, gone. Dead. Killed himself because of Dean. Dean's knuckles were white as he death gripped the edge if the bed. He couldn't do this. The snippets if conversation kept echoing in his head. 

_"No, it's the truth, because if you kill her and you survive this, then you have to go on without your brother!"_ Sam would rather die than be without Dean. This had gone too far it'd gotten too deep. God, no, Sam couldn't need him like this cheat was Dean supposed to do? Sam had no idea what he was relying on, what he was asking for. Sam didn't know all the things Dean had done, and he'd sure as duck wouldn't want Dean after that. 

Which was for the better. They couldn't need each other that much, it was too damned unhealthy. Well, at least Sam shouldn't need Dean. Dean had no idea Sam felt that tethered to him and that scared Dean. It downright terrified him. 

_"No, Sam. This is suicide!"_

Dean was just about to say something, he had no idea what, but they had to talk about this. About how Ruby managed to seduce Sam by bringing up Dean, because that was in no way okay. Sam was just confused, and lonely, and that was why he was disoriented enough to want what Ruby was offering all that bad wrong and we shouldn't. Sam didn't _really_ want that with Dean. Right? Dean had to check though. 

And he needed to know Sam wasn't going to go down that path, he needed a promise that Sam could never do that to himself. How could his Sam almost do that to himself? Suicide. It was such a sad word and a horrible concept and one Dean had never been close to til now. 

_That's not true,_ a voice in Dean's head whispered. Okay, so yeah, when Dean had initially gotten Sam killed, he'd gotten into his car with the destination of the next cliff and joining Sam. But he'd snapped out of it, come across a crossroads and sold his soul instead. (Maybe he shouldn't have been a coward - then they wouldn't begin the mess they were in right now.) 

They needed to talk about this. But then there was a damn knock on the door and they were interrupted and the opportunity window for talking slammed shut as everything suddenly became about Ruby again. He'd tried to save the moment, tried telling the housekeeping that now wasn't a good time, tried telling her to leave the goddamn towels at the door, but to no prevail. Dean watched their chance to tackle this now slip between his fingers in a flurry of an angry black woman and jumping out a bathroom window.

They made it to Anna and Ruby without running into Alistair again, and Dean was torn between shooting death glares at Ruby and throwing her a party for saving his Sammy. For saving Dean's life by protecting Sam's. He'd shot her plenty of death glares lately, so he settled for just looking peeved. Which he was. 

But when Anna spewed off her little story about Ruby saving her life, Dean figured he might as well use the opportunity to even the score board a little. 

"Yeah, I hear she does that. I guess I... You know." Dean wasn't sure he could actually say thank you to the botch that had used what bit of a fucked up relationship he had had with his brother to her advantage so she could have a fuck buddy, but she had saved Sammy's life. 

"What?" Even if she was an annoying bitch. 

"I guess I owe you for... Sam. And I just wanted... you know..." It was kind of obvious when Dean worded it like that. She'd saved Sam for him and that would make Sam his when Dean said it that way. Which Sam kinda was but not like that and god why was this so complicated?

"Don't strain yourself." Well it was too late for that. 

"Okay, then. Is the moment over?" Ruby nodded and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, 'cause that was awkward."

Dean didn't miss the grin from Sam. Maybe it was because Dean was tripping over himself like a fool or maybe it was because Dean had inadvertently called Sam his and put this whole thing into even more of a complicated mess than it already was. 

And he may be able to put on a face and try to protect Anna and work the case, but Dean couldn't lie to himself. Well, he could, but there were still feelings nagging at him that weren't shutting away in dusty boxes like they used to. 

Being in the same room as Sam and Ruby and finally knowing why they looked at each other like that...it made Dean's blood boil. She had the nerve to go and sleep with Sam but honestly she was a bitch and a demon and manipulative and Dean hated her for that. But Sam? Sam had had the nerve to go and sleep with _Ruby_. 

So her words had made it about Dean and apparently Sam couldn't refuse that. But if Sam cared about Dean so goddamned much why had he gone and slept with someone else. _You're jealous_ , a voice whispered to him in the back of his head. He wanted to tell it to go fuck itself but he couldn't. 

Sam had screwed Ruby as soon as Dean was out of the way. If they'd ever had anything, Sammy just threw it aside and trampled on it. Maybe Dean had been denying Sam all of that lately, but Sam had cheated before Dean had ever that dark reason to not be with Sam anymore. 

No, not cheated. Not technically. But the technicality of it didn't matter, because that's exactly what it felt like. 

It felt like cheating.


	10. Palpable (Heaven and Hell - 04x10)

When Ruby tossed Dean the hex bags to keep them safe from the angels and demons, she was expecting some snide remark in return. What she absolutely did not see coming was the thank you.

"Hey Ruby." Dean said, turning to face her like she was an actual being. "Thanks."

Ruby kind of stared for a moment, confused. It sounded like that "thanks" carried a lot more wait than a couple of hex bags. But she nodded anyways, making a mental note to ask Sam later what was up with Dean.

It was a while before she got him alone, but once she did, it was the first thing off of her lips. 

"So did you talk to Dean or something?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, he was just acting, kind of, you know. Different." Sam looked down, swallowing.

"Yeah, I, uh, told him how you saved me when he left." Ah, so that was what the thank you was for. For letting Sam not run off a cliff because Dean was dead.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, you okay?" Sam was staring at the ground, and Ruby could swear she saw tears in his eyes. She stepped forward, placing a tentative hand on Sam's arm. Sam flinched away like her touch was made of fire, and she quickly withdrew it.

"I'm fine, Ruby." Sam said shortly, still not looking at her. Well fine, figures it's what she gets for trying to be nice.

Sam couldn't stop seeing the look on Dean's face when he had told him his story, of how he ended up fucking Ruby. _A demon, Sam, really? You fucked a demon._ He kept replaying the look on Dean's face, the temporary hurt and confusion, then the hard barrier or sarcasm and shutting Sam out. Dean's beautiful green eyes had gone from curious to painful to appalled to barred from everything. At least Dean knew now, although it didn't make it any easier. And now there was this tension between them, like Sam had betrayed Dean. I mean, they weren't in a relationship or anything, but Sam had to admit, it still felt like cheating. And based on how Dean keeps bringing it up, that's how Dean saw it too.

So when Dean stumbles into the hideaway shack later, Sam isn't surprised that Dean reeks of sex. And based on the way Dean can't keep his eyes off of Anna, Sam figured it was the angel that he'd laid down in the back of the impala. Sam had gone to the impala earlier to get another hex bag from the trunk and had seen the back seat covers rumpled and the windows slowly unfogging. He'd swallowed down the urge to choke and had just pretended he didn't know. But now, with Dean standing blatantly in front of him, Sam couldn't avoid this any longer. 

Dean didn't look Sam in the eyes as he spoke, his gaze off on something imagined in the distance. Dean looked almost guilty, but he'd never admit to that in a million years. Sam had to admit though, it was ironic. Sam screwed a demon and Dean screwed an angel. A few years ago, Sam could've sworn it would've been the other way around. But here they are, Sam, Dean and Anna in some beat up barn in the middle of nowhere. The awkwardness was practically palpable.

Dean couldn't bring himself to look at Sam, but it was for quite a few more reasons than Sam would know. He subconsciously reached up and brushed his necklace with his fingertips, making sure it was there. When Dean had laid Anna down in the back seat, he found he couldn't do this with the amulet dangling between them, a constant reminder of Sam. It had never bothered him before, and Dean had never taken it off during sex before. Hell, he'd keep it on on purpose, because it was sexy as hell and he knew it. But right now, with Sam's affair with Ruby so fresh on his mind and Sam's tackling him in that motel room on the wishing well case even fresher on his mind, Dean couldn't let that part of his soul float between him and Anna. So he took the necklace off, placing it carefully in his baby's glovebox. He felt naked and vulnerable, but he had to do it this way. That necklace was just a reminder of how complicated things were.

Sam noticed Dean touch his necklace, but couldn't make out what it might mean. He decided to just not think about it, because Sam overthought everything all the time anyways. 

The door to the barn swung open, grabbing all of their attentions. Castiel swept inside, Sam's first thought being _shit- another complication._ He'd forgotten about the tension between Dean and Cas too, and god, this whole thing was a mess. Sam's next thought was to put out an arm in front of Anna, letting the two angel-dicks know they weren't taking her without a fight.

"Hello Anna. It's good to see you." For once, Castiel's eyes were on someone besides Dean. It probably wouldn't be for long though.

"How? How did you find us?" Sam demanded. Those hex bags worked, he was 100% sure, so how the hell? Now Castiel's eyes were on Dean again, and Sam didn't get it at first, because Cas's eyes were always on Dean. But wait, was that the answer- did Dean-

Sam looked over at his brother, and Dean looked up for a moment before looking down, his eyes shifting with his quite obvious guilty face. Dean had told Castiel where they were. 

Anna looked over at Dean too, and her face lit up with recognition. Everyone in the room seemed to know what was going on except for Sam. 

"Dean?" Sam asked, his question being understood by everyone. Dean just looked down, his answer portrayed just as clearly as the question. Then he looked to Anna, apologizing for the first time for his do and ditch game. 

"Why?" Sam asked, accusingly looking at Dean. What selfish plan did Dean have now?

Anna glared at the angels before looking up at Sam.

"Because they gave him a choice. Either kill me, or kill you." Sam looked away from Anna. It was his fault she was going to die, and he knew it. He wasn't surprised at Dean, but that didn't make this any easier.

"I know how their minds work." Anna glared at Castiel and he looked ashamed, like he truly didn't want to have to do this. Dean was looking at Castiel too, but turned to Anna as she placed a hand on his arm. She reached up and kissed him, and Dean kissed back, tentatively and carefully, almost as though he was afraid she would break. Sam turned away, looking at Castiel instead.

Cas watched Dean, his eyes more torn than Sam had ever seen before. Sam watched Castiel curiously as Cas fought with his emotions and shifted his eyes sadly to the floor. Sam followed Cas's gaze to Dean before looking back to see all of the longing in Castiel's expression. That was really odd, hadn't Dean told Sam that angels didn't have emotions? Castiel certainly was seeming pretty emotional right now. 

Almost as though he read his mind, Cas looked up and over at Sam, his eyes flickering before turning back to cold stone. Sam looked away from the angel, not wanting Castiel to back out of this deal anyways. Sam was pretty sure at least Uriel wanted him dead, and he wouldn't be surprised if Cas did too.

"I am sorry." Castiel said to Anna after her little declaration of courage. She bit back sharply.

"No, not really. You don't know the feeling." Somehow, Sam felt Anna was wrong. He was pretty sure that Castiel was sorry, and pretty sure Cas knew a lot more feelings than he was letting on.

Sam kind of zoned out of Anna and Cas's conversation as he watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean was putting up a pretty good show if Anna was really just another hook up. He seemed pretty damn sorry he had to let her go. It wasn't until Sam heard the demon voices behind him that he turned around and came back to the present conversation.

Sam quickly ushered Anna to the side of the barn, making sure he and Dean were far out of Heaven and Hell's battlegrounds. Just like they intended, the angels and demons advanced on each other, almost instantly engaging in battle. Castiel went for the head demon, although the way he fought made it seem personal. All hits to the face and head, hits intended to cause pain instead of accuracy. If Castiel just wanted to kill the demon, he'd probably go for a shot to the chest first. What grudge did Castiel hold so personally for this demon?

Soon though, Castiel was on the ground and the demon was killing him. Dean moved to step into the fight and Sam put out an arm to block him. Dean just pushed through Sam's arm and grabbed the closest metal object he could find, uppercutting the demon with it. The demon stepped away from Cas, but unfortunately turned his attention to them now.

"Dean, Dean, Dean." The demon said. Wait, fuck, how did this demon know Dean? Sam looked back and forth between the demon and his brother. Dean angled his body to better attack the demon and protect Sam at the same time. He was clearly hiding something though.

"I'm so disappointed. You had such _promise_." Sam's eyes widened as he looked at Dean. Promise? What the hell? But suddenly there was a pain in his chest and Sam was collapsing to the ground. He couldn't feel anything but this sharp black pain, only vaguely hearing Anna's warning to shut his eyes. He fought against the pain long enough to lift an arm to shield himself from the blast of white light from across the room.

Now that the pain was gone, Sam stood, temporarily supported by Dean's hand on his back. Dean bent down to pick up Ruby's knife and Sam acknowledged it, his shoulder brushing Dean's in a silent apology for losing it in the first place. Now Dean was smack-talking the angels again, which of course pissed off Uriel. "You gonna go find Anna now or what? What are you waiting for?" Uriel stormed forward in a surge of rage, but Castiel reached out his arm and halted the other angel. 

Dean looked at Cas, and both stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Sam was just about to clear his throat from all the awkward before the angels were suddenly gone. 

Dean immediately looked up and searched around, maybe out of habit. Sam sighed quietly, deciding he was not going to confront Dean about his revelation regarding Castiel's emotions. Or regarding Anna. It was a lot, too much actually, and Sam was just going to let it all play out for once. It would happen however it was supposed to, cause that was destiny, right?

~*~*~*~*~

Today was apparently the day of throwing people at Dean. He was going through enough trouble with Sam right now, more than enough, but of course it didn't stop there. Sam was still looking at him hungrily and Dean was still dodging every touch or meaningful glance that came his way. 

Then, to complicate everything even more, there was Anna. She was beautiful and smart, self-sacrificial just like Dean. When he layed her down in the back of the Impala, it wasn't entirely about Sam. Yes, it had started out with getting even with Sam for cheating on him. And it ended that way too, with the kiss in the barn in front of Sam. 

Dean genuinely was sorry she had to go, though. He wasn't in love with her by any means, but he did like her a lot. And it was only the stupid irony of it all that Dean gave up his "slice of angel food cake" for his brother. Uriel's little speech about applying the pressure to the right places (and then going on to accuse Dean of sinning upon his brother: _"You sick little mud monkey, lusting away for your own blood, for your family that way. Corrupting your little brother, spoiling his mind. No matter now, though, because he won't be alive to corrupt anymore. That is, if you give up the girl. Chose, Dean. Angel food cake or your own flesh and blood brother you love oh so dearly?"_ ) really really pissed Dean off. 

That was the only part of Uriel's speech that got to him though. Uriel had something, I. The very beginning, that was achingly simple and disastrously unelaborated on. Dean had been trying to level the playing field, talk his side up, and as soon as he realized it was only Uriel in his dream, he began to think this would be a lot harder without Cas here to diffuse the hydrogen bomb in this dickwad. 

"Don't normally see you off leash. Where's your boss?" The intention was not only to get under Uriel's skin, but drill him for information too. Neither really worked. Well, Dean got information, just not the kind he was looking for. 

"Castiel? Oh, he, uh... He's not here." Uriel's face twisted in minute disgust, like he was tasting something sour on his tongue. "See, he has this weakness. He likes you."

Dean did everything he could not to let his eyebrows fly up in surprise. Cas...liked him? As in like liked him? By the way Uriel looked extremely annoyed by it, there was a possibility. God, what? If that was true, if Castirl liked him... 

"Time's up, boy. We want the girl." Uriel had changed the topic as quickly as possible, and for the moment Dean had been distracted enough to turn away from the thoughts of what exactly Cas liking him meant. Or why the hell he got butterflies at the thought. Hell, if Cas just liked him in general, as a friend, that would kinda be a huge fucking deal too. Because angels weren't supposed to have any emotions, and that meant Cas was breaking the rules. For Dean. About Dean. 

So Dean had three people that he was feeling emotional about right now, and just when Dean thought it couldn't be any worse, Alistair showed up. And spilled off his speech about how Dean had "promise" right in front of Sam. How was Dean supposed to ignore that?

So that was how he ended up with tears streaking down his face, baring his soul to Sam _. "You're not alone,"_ Anna had told him. She was right, because he had Sam. Who was here, and who wanted to know. Who'd promised he'd always be there for Dean. And that's why a celebratory drink on the hood if the Impala turned into a cry fest where Dean told Sam what he'd done in hell. Why he didn't deserve all this, why he didn't deserve anything ever again.

"I wish I couldn't feel anything Sammy." Dean tried to breathe in, unable to see anything clearly beyond the veil of his tears. "I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing." 

He could see them, feel the blood seeping in between his fingers, hear the screams he carved out of people. And worst of all, he remembered the sick and twisted feeling he got every time he stabbed a knife into some nameless soul. But he couldn't think about that right now, it was all too much anyways. 

Dean had lived with guilt his entire life. But nothing like this, nothing like the sick, unworthy feeling he got when he had to see his face in the mirror. Nothing like the way he'd catch a glimpse of his hands sometimes and imagine them twisting into flesh, seeing blood drip off his knuckles that wasn't really there. 

It was a while before Dean ran out of tears, before his eyes just stayed swollen and red with no more moisture left to give. Sam sat in silence behind him the whole time, just letting his proximal distance soothe Dean in whatever minimal form it could. When Dean finally got thr courage to stand up, Sam didn't reach for him. Dean had never been more grateful in his life. 

By the time Dean turned slowly to face Sam, the tears on his cheeks had dried. Apparently, so had Sam's. There were tear stains streaking down his brother's face, two clean tracks of drying wetness, accompanied by reddened skin at the bridge of his nose. The place Sam pinched when he was trying not to cry. Clearly Sam was just as affected about the story as Dean was. Dean was glad he hadn't had to see Sam cry, as selfish as that was. He should feel bad Sam was crying, but honestly. He didn't want to think about any feelings. Especially not the ones written all over Sam's face right now. 

Sam's hand extended towards Dean, making it about three inches away from Sam before he realized he was doing it and quickly clamped his hands together in his lap, forcibly holding them still. Dean watched on with dull eyes, seeing Sam's inner conflict and unable to help him resolve it. Dean couldn't deal with the touches right now. 

He wanted to comfort Dean, pull him in close and hold him and god knows what else. But Dean was afraid the touch of Sam's hand would burn, that his caresses would turn to shredding knives, his kisses into choking for air. Dean couldn't deal with that anymore, especially not if it was Sam. 

And Dean had already turned into a monster, he didn't need the burden of breaking the rules for Sam again. It was wrong for them to be together in that way, and Desn not only had no excuses for them to be involved, he had extensive reasons for them not to be. 

"Want me to drive?" Sam offered quietly. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and looked out over the ledge of the mountain they were on. It was gorgeous, the view up here was beautiful. And the edge there was so close. Dean just had to take a few more steps and it'd be all over, all the pain and the confusion and the heartache gone. 

"Yeah." Dean walked over to shotgun, opening the door and ignoring the feeling of cold metal under his hands. The door handle twisted into a carving knife under his palm, but Dean just left it there and drew his hand away as soon as possible. He tucked into the seat and considered checking to see if the door handle really had transformed, but he knew there wasn't a point. His imagination was just this beautiful creature that was tormenting him, now that the gates had been opened again. 

As soon as Dean talked about it, let himself think about it, it was out in the open now. Forever. And if he was hallucinating and imagining and thinking of jumping off cliffs in the daytime, tonight was going to be terrifying. It was always worse when Dean was sleeping.

Maybe he just wouldn't sleep. He'd keep them busy, keep cases on the trail they blazed. Then he wouldn't have time to think about it, and he'd sleep only out of necessity. Sleeping during a case was a deeper sleep because of the bones of tiredness from shooting and working and digging graves. Dean might be able to avoid the nightmares that way. 

And if they were busy, it's be a hell of a lot easier to avoid Sam's touch.


	11. Hindrance (Family Remains - 04x11)

"Did you get Danny?" Susie asked, watching as the two men exchanged looks with each other. They were communicating, but she was missing out on the conversation. 

"No," the smaller one said, looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The tall one looked at him concerned, like how a mother looks at her baby chicks, frightened of the fragileness that could break at any moment. She wasn't sure if the smaller one just didn't see it, but she had a feeling he'd be safe with the tall one if he stopped being so stubborn. The tall one kept on looking at him.

"So, wh-where's Ted?"

"He's outside." The man was looking at the ground now, refusing to meet eyes even with his partner.

"Why doesn't he come inside?" She was confused, and for a moment was fairly annoyed with the two men. They looked at each other again, like they absolutely could not go more than five seconds without each other's eyes. Susie fully understood what it was like to be in a relationship, but she'd never seen that level of attached addiction in a couple. Even newlyweds weren't this siamese-twin-conjoined-at-the-hip-thing. Their ridiculous attachment to each other was becoming a hindrance, and she felt fairly positive that both of these men were a lot more concerned with each other than they were with finding her son. Or Ted, what about Ted?

"Because I had to carry him out. I'm sorry." The smaller man put his head down, looking broken. Susie turned to her husband, her heart beginning to race even more.

"What-What does that mean? What does it mean that you're sorry?" No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. Her brother was dead. How would one of those men feel if they had to find out their brother was dead? As her sanity began to slip away, the last thought on her conscious mind was just that: these two men could never understand the pain of this, of losing family. She'd never know just how wrong she was.

~*~*~*~

Sam was propped up on a motel bed, his laptop open on his pajama-bottom clothed lap, typing away at headlines that all seemed entirely normal. The bathroom door opened, and Sam felt the steam rolling out before he ever even looked up and saw Dean. Dean's hair was spiked in four thousand directions the way it always was when he dried it by just rubbing it with a towel. He was wearing a dark blue tshirt and Sam's gray sweats. Dean never wore sweats. But Sam didn't comment, mostly because there was approximately ten seconds between the time when Dean was stepping out of the bathroom and when he was flicking off the table light and crawling into the other bed, mumbling goodnight.

Sam just kind of blinked and looked over at the dark outline of Dean in the bed next to his. He had practically ran in order to avoid Sam and that worried Sam even more than usual because Sam actually knew why this time. 

_I enjoyed it, Sam. They took me off the rack, and I tortured souls, and I liked it. All those years, all that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn't care who they put in front of me. Because that pain I felt, it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can't change that. I can't fill this hole. Not ever._

If there was ever a time in Dean's life that he needed love, it was now. Sam shut his laptop and scooted it onto the bedspread, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and quietly padding over to Dean's, slipping quickly under the sheets behind him. Sam was expecting some sort of quiet "leave me alone" or maybe a cold shoulder or something. What he absolutely had not been expecting was for Dean to whip around and snap.

"Don't. Get out. Now." Dean wasn't even bothering to whisper, just ignoring the dark and the sheets and the hundred conversations they'd had this way, at night facing each other on opposite pillows. 

"Dean-"

"Sam. I said out." Sam reached out a hand to touch Dean's shoulder, his fingers curling halfway around the top of Dean's arm before Dean yanked his shoulder away like Sam's hands were made of fire. In Dean's mind, they might be. 

"Don't touch me!" Dean shouted. Sam snatched back his hand, mouth gaping at Dean's theatrics. 

"What the he-...fuck, Dean. Seriously?" Sam stopped himself just in time from saying it, but Dean's entire body tensed up anyways. 

"Leave me alone, okay?" Dean rolled over and turned his back on Sam as he said it. Dean wasn't shouting anymore, but he sounded exasperated still. At least he wasn't livid. But that wasn't fair, he couldn't just shut Sam out. He couldn't just wallow in his sorrow and guilt and waste away before Sam's eyes. Sam glared at Dean's back, the only part of him Sam felt like he saw these days. It wasn't fair. Sam wasn't going to lose Dean again, not when he just got him back. 

"Dean, no. Is this about what you said earlier? What, just because you tortured souls in hell, you're suddenly not worthy of being touched?!" 

Dean flipped over to Sam again, their bodies still somehow two feet apart. Even in the dark, Sam could see the protective layer of mask on Dean's face. 

"Yes, now will you please just leave me alone?" Dean was staring at Sam expectantly but Sam was just lying there in shock. He'd been taking a shot in the dark with the whole "not worthy" thing, but Dean had just admitted to it. Blown Sam off, yeah, and there had been a twinge of facetious asshole mixed with condescending dick in there, but he'd still said yes. 

"No. I'm staying here." There was no point in trying to convince Dean he was worthy with words. Touch, Sam had a chance at though. Although clearly not without getting punched. 

"Sam, I know who I was." _Evil. And that doesn't deserve company._ Dean wasn't looking at him, but his words were still firm.

"Yeah, and I know who you were for the first twenty-nine years of your life. And if you let me, I'd like to know who you are now." Sam wasn't bitter, but he held his ground. His words were as honest as he could show, and they actually put Dean into silence for a bit. A long bit. It had been at least three minutes and Sam was about to give up and say something when Dean finally spoke. 

"Fine. Just don't touch me." Dean rolled over again, his back to Sam the way it would probably stay all night. So there went Sam's shot at convincing Dean of anything tonight. Time, he just needed time. And lots of patience. 

"Fine. I won't. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The tension was high and they both lie stiffly for quite some time before Dean finally fell into his fitful patterns of post-Hell sleep. God knows Dean just needed to be held, touched, caressed. With fingertips and words and lips. Dean needed to be loved, to be shown how much he deserved it, how worthy he still was. 

Even if Sam couldn't touch him now, he could show Dean he wasn't going anywhere. Maybe if he was lucky, Dean would come to him. Sam had already tried kissing Dean once, and Dean had asked for more time. So if Dean came to him instead of Sam trying to go to Dean...then he was ready. Then Sam could convince him he deserved to be loved.

And who better to love Dean than the person who already loved him more than everything in the entire world?


	12. Tenebrous (Criss Angel is a Douchebag - 04x12)

"You think we will?" Dean looked up from the Terracard, greeted with Sam's "wistful thinking" face. Dean should really just start a list of signature Sam faces. That'd be pretty great.

"What?" Now it was Sam's "I'm trying not to make you think I'm being serious but I'm actually quite serious" face. Okay, that title was too long. Eh, it's just a draft list anyways. 

"Die before we get old." 

"Haven't we both already?" Dean cracked himself up sometimes, that was good. Sam didn't appreciate it quite as much, putting on one of his 12 classic bitch faces.

"You know what I mean Dean, I mean, do you think we'll still be chasing demons when we're sixty?" Normally Dean doesn't pay much attention to word choice because he really doesn't care, but due to some crazy fucked up things happening lately, he noticed Sam's "we," not "me." As in, they'd still be together when they were 60.

"No. I think we'll be dead." Sam snorted, now at the "I'm so not surprised at you" face, or maybe his "you're pretty adorable but I'm gonna pretend I'm annoyed" face. And yes, Dean did know that Sam had that face. And he used it quite a bit too. Not that Dean noticed every time made that face, but yeah.

"For good." Sam shook his head slightly, looking off into the distance.

"What, you wanna end up like Travis? Hm? Or Gordon maybe?" Sam looked back at him, shrugging his shoulders.

"There's Bobby." Well yeah, but Bobby lost his wife and lived alone, remember Sam? If we lived like Bobby did, we wouldn't live together, that type of life isn't conducive to company. I mean, what, do I make you bacon and eggs every morning for breakfast while we talk about a case? Not that Dean would mind that all that much, but he was definitely not going to say it. So he turned on his heel and settled for something a lot more tenebrous.

"Yeah, there's a poster child for growing old gracefully." Dean moved over to the bed, sitting back down, figuring the conversation was mostly over now.

"Maybe we'll be different, Dean." There was that "we" again. Was Sammy thinking the same thing he was?

"What kind of Kool-Aid are you drinking, man?" Sam looked down guiltily. It was his "I know I shouldn't be thinking like that" face. Guilty for his thoughts, maybe even for his hope.

"Sammy, it ends bloody...or sad." It killed Dean to say that, put what he believed to be the truth out there like telling a kid Santa isn't real. "That's just the life."

It was when Sam closed his laptop that Dean knew the conversation was going from casual conversation to Conversation.

"Dean, what if it doesn't have to? What if we got to have a happy ending?" Dean snorted, shaking his head at Sam.

"How could this -" Dean gestured around them, to the shabby motel room and the monsters around the corners and their really fucked up life-"How could this end happy, Sam?"

Sam stood up and rambled over to the opposite bed, sitting across from Dean and looking at him intently. That look was way too intense for Dean's liking and he found his eyes shifting between Sam and the floor. After a little while (what felt like fucking forever) Sam spoke again. His voice was soft now, gentle like he how he talked to dead victim's parents or something.

"We could stop hunting eventually, find some house somewhere that's tolerable, you know, get a dog or something. Get real jobs, or not, it doesn't really matter. But just because we were born and raised into this doesn't mean we have to die in this too, Dean."

"Sam, there isn't a planet I know of where your plan would work. I mean, we're brothers, and even if we weren't, I don't think it'd ever be that easy. It never is. Not for anyone..." _Not for anyone who wants to be with me._ Dean never had "apple pie life" worked out for him, and anyone who ever tried to make it that way ended up with some storybook sad ending. He wasn't going to let Sam throw away whatever future Sam could have, just because Dean needed him. Dean knew he'd never really be happy if Sam wasn't in his life, and he also thought that Sam could never really be happy if Dean was always there as baggage.

"Sam, don't you get it? In the end, if this all is over, you could find some pretty wife and settle down and get all that, you know, live the life. But I can't do that, Sammy. I'd never be happy." Sam's soft expression suddenly switched over to pissed.

"And you think I could? Just run off again and try to live without you in my life? I tried that Dean, twice, and I'm not doing it again."

"You were fine at Stanford before I showed up."

"Maybe I was, but barely Dean, and to be honest, I missed the hell out of you all the time and it never felt...right. It was like I was a freak that didn't belong. I would've ended up hating the life eventually. But even if I never realized it Dean, I'm not the same person now that I was then. I couldn't do that again. I've changed. A lot."

Sam had a point. He was no longer the Sissy Stanford Sammy that turned his back on the world. His entire personality had changed. So maybe Sam wouldn't be happy in an apple pie life either, but then what?

"Then what exactly do you want, Sam? Because I'm still not seeing a reasonable happy ending here." Dean stood, about to go set the Terracard down by Sam's computer. Anything to give himself a moment of break from the intensity of the conversation. Sam stood too though, and grabbed Dean by the bicep before he could go anywhere. Dean looked up at Sam's face, (his "determined-not-to-take-any-of-your-shit" face) and raised his eyebrows, moving his trapped arm a bit. Sam either didn't get the message to let go or didn't care. He just held Dean there, looking down at him and forcing him to look back.

"Dean, don't you get it?" Fuck, Sam was about to say something he was going to regret. This was bad. Abort mission Sam, c'mon. Don't say anything stupid.

"I don't want to have to live some normal life." Sam just kept staring at Dean as he spoke. Sam clearly had no intention of stopping his speech anytime soon, but Dean couldn't let him finish it either. This was bad bad bad. Sam's grip on Dean's bicep loosened, but Dean stayed where he was, figuring he'd need the proximity in order to stop Sam if he started veering onto the path that Dean had been trying to avoid for years.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Dean, I lo-" Sam's words were halted as Dean grabbed the back of Sam's neck and stood on his tiptoes, crushing Sam's mouth with his own. Sam kind of stumbled backwards in surprise, and Dean followed, keeping their mouths still on each other. Which got harder once Sam's shin hit the bed and made Sam fall into a seated position. But Dean just bent in half (thank god he didn't have to stand on his tiptoes anymore, that was fairly embarrassing), bringing his hands from the back of Sam's neck to his face, cradling it as he lightened up the kiss a bit. Sam was kissing him back fully now, his hands roaming Dean's sides. Even though Dean had just intended to kiss Sam to shut him up, he was pretty much having the time of his life and really did not feel like stopping. After who knows how long, Sam finally pulled his lips away from Dean's, slow enough for the wet slide between them to give Dean shivers up his spine. Now he was left just staring at Sam's surprised and content expression.

Dean straightened back up as he backed away from Sam. Dean put one of his hands in his hair, looking down at the ground apologetically. 

"Uh, sorry," he managed to get out, not feeling very sorry at all, but figuring he should say it anyways. Sam just stared at him, with one of his "extremely overwhelmed" faces. It felt good to know Dean could overwhelm him that much, he felt kind of honored, but at the same time, pretty guilty. He'd been telling Sam no for the past month, and now he suddenly just went against his own rules and kissed Sam. Well fuck, the worse part was that, deep inside, Dean really didn't care. It would (probably) be worth the potential bitch fit from Sam, and it was worth his stomach tying in knots with confusion, and it was definitely worth it for the tingling sensation Dean felt on his mouth and sides, pretty much anywhere Sam had been touching him. It was worth all that, so for now, Dean was just going to let this one slide. No overthinking it, no worrying about it. It was just a kiss, and he was going to deal with it. So there.

~*~*~*~*~

They'd been shoved into the jail cell a little while ago. One second they'd been chasing after Jay who'd disappeared, and the next they were getting arrested, Jay appearing again from the stairs and pointing at them, shouting they were the ones who broke into his apartment. Dean felt stupid for letting Jay slip his bonds, because it really was his fault. Well, Sam's too. 

They had been going over possible case options, turned slightly away from Jay so he couldn't read their lips, but keeping him in their peripherals enough that they'd catch any movement if he tried anything. Only problem was, they were standing really close. Which shouldn't have been a problem, they breathed each other's air during cases all the time anyways. 

But Sam was so close to him, the tips of his silky hair brushed the side of Dean's spiked hair. He could feel Sam's warmth from that close, see the puppy eyes and the flecks of gold and brown and green. Then Sam's hand landed on his wrist, gentle and automatic and not meaning anything besides that Sam was talking with his hands again. But Dean's entire arm could feel the warmth, every single one of his senses focusing in on the brush of Sam's fingertips across his skin. 

He'd been so wholly distracted, Jay had managed not only movement without being detected, he managed to struggle out of and entirely break free of his bonds and _leave_. All because they were so caught up in each other. 

Now, Dean was leaning against one wall, a foot propped up on the concrete bench half a foot from Sam. Who was also leaning against a wall, the one perpendicular to Dean's. They'd both been pretty quiet so far, not really having much to say. Dean was rubbing his fingers over his wrist, specifically where Sam had been touching him. He still had cuffs on though (something about pesky magicians trying to break out of the cells), so he had an excuse to be rubbing his wrist without Sam looking at him weird. Even if it was just the one. 

"Dean, how are we gonna get out of here?" Sam's voice was quiet, concerned, his head rolling to the side against the wall, looking over at Dean. Dean sighed, tugging a bit at the cuffs and getting no movement. 

"Yeah man, I don't know." Dean was quiet for a beat before he grinned, raising his eyebrows at Sam. "I'm sure you could blow the sherrif?"

Sam made a face and an aggravated sound, promptly ignoring Dean and looking away. Dean reached out his propped up foot and kicked lightly at Sam's thigh, forcing his attention back to Dean. 

"C'mon, he couldn't turn down a mouth like yours." Sam snorted and looked down at his cuffs, experimentally twisting his wrists and finding no give either. Then he defended his honor, his voice calculated and sassy as all get out. 

"I'm pretty sure you're the one with the DSL here, Dean. Why don't you offer?" Aww, Sam used a high school acronym, how cute. Dick sucking lips. Dean did _not_ have dick sucking lips. 

"I do not," Dean replied, offended. Well, mostly. 

"Dude, do you own a mirror? Your lips are the size of Texas."

"Yeah, well, your tongue does this weird twisty thing that should be illegal in at least three states--"

"Dean, don't even get me _started_ on the rest of your mouth--"

A loud metallic banging interrupted them both and they shot upright quickly, heads snapping towards the cell door. The guard that just tapped his baton against the bars was now sliding his keys into the door lock. 

"Will you two stop flirting? You're getting out of here."

Dean and Sam both piped up a defensive response in unison, eyes big with surprise and shoulders set in tense offendedness. 

"We're not flirting." The in sync words made them both turn and glare at each other, Dean about to open his mouth and demand jinx and a root beer float when the door swung open and the guard spoke again, sounding annoyed. 

"Did you hear the second half of that? You're getting out of here. Charges dropped." Dean stood up, taking up this offer before the guard changed his mind. 

"Why?" Sam asked, standing up off the bench too. The guard snorted, hearding them out of the cell and into the hallway. 

"Hell if I know. Just go shoot your sexually frustrated rainbow insults at each other somewhere else, okay?" Dean spun around, glaring at the guard behind them. 

"Hey, we're not--" Sam's gigantic hand landed on Dean's arm and he flinched, not expecting (pretending not wanting) the touch. 

"Dean, man, let's go before _he_ presses charges. Kay?" Dean huffed out an annoyed breath but followed Sam out the door anyways. Stupid cop, assuming they were gay. 

That was the second time that happened in this town and it was getting annoying. Dean could not wait to solve this case and get the hell out of here. He could live the rest of his life without ever hearing the name Chief again. 

Or thinking about it for that matter. Or about the way Sam's hand was on Dean's lower back as they ran to Jay's hotel. They needed off this case, fast.


	13. Meticulously (After School Special - 04x13)

Sam heard the whistle blow from the hallway leading to the gym, Dean's low gravely rough voice shouting "Take a lap!" in pretty much the gruffest and most (attractive) tough guy Dean could muster, then another sharp whistle blow. The first sight Sam saw as he walked into the gym was Dean, a whistle sticking out of the side of mouth, and oh. my. god. What was he wearing. 

Sam tilted his head in the universal gesture for c'mere, making Dean stop his teaching instructions instantly, headed over to Sam. Yeah, if he were a real teacher he'd be so fired. On his way over he tossed the balls into the air with a "Go nuts." Sam could hardly keep the smirk off his face as he closed the gym door behind him.

He couldn't help it if his eyes drifted down Dean's body, his new outfit was quite distracting in a very odd sort of way. The shirt was too tight across the top of Dean's chest, and the shorts revealed more skin than Dean had shown anyone, besides Sam and the women he'd slept with. The tall socks and headband just completed the look and made it pretty freaking hilarious. Dean probably didn't notice Sam's flighty eyes or he would've said something. Thank god he didn't.

"Having fun?" Sam managed to muster out.

"The whistle makes me their god," Dean said smugly, shaking it a bit with his hand for emphasis.

"Right," Sam smirked. He couldn't help it, his eyes drifted down Dean's body again. "Nice shorts."

Dean looked down, his dimpled half-grin on his face when his eyes met Sam's again.

"You checkin me out?" Dean teased, wearing the same expression he did when he hit on the waitress. Sam was kind of taken aback a bit, _was Dean flirting with him?_ but he managed a sort of half-snort in response. Dean just grinned even wider, playfully tapping Sam's chest with his fist.

"That's what I thought," he said. If Dean's gorgeous green eyes weren't so lit up with adorableness right now, Sam would probably hit him back, but he just kinda looked away for a moment before looking back at Dean. Dean laughed softly and turned on his heel, heading back to the dodgeball game. Sam's eyes couldn't help but stare at Dean's ass, meticulously defined in the tight red shorts. Dean was swaying his hips a bit, like he knew Sam was looking.

Suddenly Dean turned his head over his shoulder, grinning as he watched Sam's cheeks flush red. Dean totally just caught him staring. Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably.

Dean winked at Sam (holy mother fucking shit) and brought his hand to his mouth, kissing it and tilting it towards Sam, pursing his plump lips together and blowing. 

Sam stuck his middle finger out at Dean, not even caring that the gym was full of fourteen year olds. Dean tilted his head back and laughed loudly, turning to walk back to the kids, shaking his head as he smiled. Sam turned around too, heading out the gym door and only turning around to look back at Dean's coaching skills once. Or maybe twice.

It wasn't his fault Dean was so damn distracting in shorts. But hey, at least it gave him something to tease Dean about tonight. Actually, for the next week if he played his cards right. Yeah, those red shorts are never going to be lived down if Sam can help it.

~*~*~*~*~

Dean remembered exactly why he hated this school. It was that bitch Amanda. Her and her stupid monologue about categorizing Dean's life. Like she had any idea about him, any clue what his life was like. What was even worse than her speech was the way it got under Dean's skin. Her word choice, it just. _Ugh_ it drove him crazy. Who did she think she was?

"I'm not mad, Dean. I thought maybe... underneath your whole "I could give a crap," bad-boy thing, that there was something more going on. I mean, like the way you are with your brother."

It had driven Dean crazy at the time, why the hell she'd put "the way you are with your brother" under the category of "something more going on." Sam was just a _kid_. A kid who meant the world to Dean and that Dean would kill trying to protect. There was nothing more going on. Sure, Sammy was growing into his long gangly arms and there was this wild spark of defiance in his eyes now that caught Dean off guard sometimes. But there was nothing _going on_. 

Amanda apparently thought she was going to be as important as Sam was in his life. And why had she wanted the way he was with Sammy anyways? Sure they were close, but why would some girl want to be as close to Dean as his Sam was? Then Dean had spent twenty minutes tearing _that_ thought apart and trying to figure out why the fuck it only seemed natural for him to put his brother's and his relationship before a love interest. Because that definitely wasn't normal.

"But I was wrong. And you spend so much time trying to convince people that you're cool, but it's just an act. We both know that you're just a sad... _lonely_ little kid. And I feel sorry for you, Dean."

Dean wasn't lonely. Not when he was with Sam. Which it seemed lately, was getting less and less common. Sam was growing distant in his defiance and maybe that's why Dean was so edgy and off his game. Maybe that's why he felt lonely, because little Sammy was getting less little and the little space that used to be between their shoulders when they walked was growing bigger too.

So maybe it wasn't normal that Dean missed Sam's proximity. Maybe it wasn't normal he wanted to spend more time with his kid brother, when other kids his age didn't even care about their siblings. But Dean didn't have the same obsession with normal that Sam did, so once they crossed state lines it never crossed his mind again. 

Not til now, when they were just about to cross over the same state line again. Maybe that's why Dean had driven in this direction, to take the same route he did last time. To purge his mind of those thoughts the same way he did last time. 

Before Dean went to hell, they had something. Something desperate between them, since Dean was dying. And apparently, Sam still wanted that something now that Dean was back. And Dean...Dean honestly didn't know anymore. 

They'd been flirting, just a little, slowly becoming more comfortable with each other as time progressed. Please-don't looks turned into not-quite-yet almostkisses and then I-swear-it's-not-what-it-looks-like kisses. And the teasing, the brotherly banter, was just taking a different bit of tone. There was a few winks and sly remarks and insulting compliments thrown each other's way, each one of them getting more and more obvious. 

And then Dean had caught Sam checking him out earlier, twice, and he'd totally egged him on. Not that Dean didn't like flirting with Sam, it was just. Why? Why was it turning into this between them?

Was Dean still that lonely kid? Was he just missing Sam right now? Missing what they had in that year? How _long_ had Dean been torn up about this? How many years did he have this conflicting twist in his stomach at the sight of Sam's smile? What exactly was Sam to Dean?

Some sick, twisted desire? What Dean had been wanting most for so long? Or maybe just a physical comfort that Sam was okay? Maybe a brother who was confused and sad and needed him? Someone Dean had taken advantage of? Or maybe all along Dean was just lonely? 

He pushed away, buried down all of those thoughts the moment the tires crossed that line. He couldn't think about that. Not on top of everything else. Not now, not if he could avoid thinking about the way he felt about Sam. Maybe not ever.


	14. Arrant (Sex and Violence - 04x14)

They'd only gone about 40 miles down the road before Sam cleared his throat and looked at Dean. Dean pretended not to notice, his eyes suddenly very concerned with the empty road in front of them. After looking at Dean for a while, Sam decided he was going to talk whether Dean ignored him or not.

"Are we going to talk about this?" Sam finally said, his words arrant against the soft Bad Company song. Dean barely glanced at him before turning his eyes back to the road.

"About what? About you screwing some _chick_ that could have been the Siren? And about how you ditched the case in favor of some hot doctor girl? Or maybe about how you think I'm weak. Yeah, sure, let's talk about that."

"Dean, I told you, that was the Siren talking. And if you're upset about the girl, we can talk about that too. But that's not what I meant." Dean's mouth was set in a hard, straight line. He would normally have looked over at Sam by now, but he was really really pissed this time, and was not going to let this go if they didn't talk about it. But Sam needed to know something too, and he needed Dean to tell him.

"Then what?" Dean said, the overhead lights of the highway they were approaching flashing in his eyes. Sam sighed. This was going to be even more difficult than he thought.

"I'm sorry I slept with the doctor, okay? It didn't mean anything, but you know that, so I don't know why you are freaking out. And why you were freaking out when you found out." Sam looked down at his hands, his next words barely muttered under his breath. "It's not like we're in a relationship anyways."

Sam looked up surprised, as the Impala suddenly swerved to the right and came to a stop on the side of the road. Sam looked behind them first (just to be safe) before he unsnapped his seatbelt and shifted his body to face Dean. Dean turned off the engine, but made no move to say anything, or even look at Sam. 

"Dean," Sam said cautiously, not sure off whether Dean was going to punch him or storm out of the car when he finally asked this. But it was killing him, and he had too. "What did the Siren mean when he said...he'd given you what you wanted most?"

Sam held his breath, bracing himself for Dean's punch to his face. Dean just sat, looking at the steering wheel. 

"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively, reaching out his hand to touch Dean's wrist. The second his fingers brushed Dean's skin, Dean jumped, like he was suddenly snapped back into reality. He stared at Sam's fingers for a moment before reaching for the door handle with his other hand. He popped it open and swung himself out of the car, shutting the car door behind him. But not slamming it. Slamming it would actually have been a lot better, because Sam knew how to handle Dean when he was pissed. But handling Dean when he was....Sam had no fucking idea what this emotion even was, so how the hell was he supposed to know how to handle it? 

After a moment or two, Sam decided his best bet was getting out of the car. As he stepped outside into the chilly night air, Sam was surprised to see Dean wasn't on the hood. Dean was bending down behind the trunk, rummaging for something. Well that was great, so Dean wasn't going to punch him. He was going to shoot him. Sam sat on the hood, figuring he didn't have very many options.

The trunk clicked shut, (still not slammed) and Dean walked around the car to the other side of the hood. Dean had a six pack of beer in his hands. Sam was absolutely not expecting that. Dean sat down fully on the hood, not propping himself up with it like he usually did, but actually scooting back enough to let his legs dangle a bit. He pulled out one of the beers and popped the top, tipping it back and downing half of it. Sam looked away from him for a moment, avoiding the moment when Dean's pretty lips would pucker and pull off the beer with a loud pop. Sam heard the pop clearly, but at least he didn't have to see it. 

They sat there for a while, but Dean never offered Sam a beer once. Dean always offered Sam a drink, but apparently he wasn't worthy of that today. After Dean had downed two of the beers without hesitation, Sam begun to get a little worried. It wasn't like Dean to drink before he drove, Dean was fully aware how dangerous that could be. But here he was, popping open the lid to a third beer. For Dean, this was going to start bordering on actually drunk, not just "taking the edge off." Sam had to speak up now while Dean was still sober enough to understand him.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, looking over at his brother. Dean took another sip of his beer, still not looking at Sam.

"Dean, why did the Siren say that? About what you wanted? What does it mean?" Sam held his breath again, waiting for some bitching response. Dean looked down at his half empty bottle, finally speaking.

"It means..." Dean paused to tip back the bottle again and gulp down more alcohol. He shook his head slightly as it went down, but opened up his mouth to speak again. 

"That you're drivin' Sammy." 

Dean's words were verging on slurred. Sam looked down at his hands in exasperation. This was pretty freaking low, even for Dean. But it must mean the Siren had shaken Dean even more than Sam had thought. Dean felt like he had to drown this away with alcohol, so badly to the point he wasn't even in a condition to drive anymore. His brother was hurting, a lot, and it was up to Sam to take care of him. Even if Sam wasn't going to get the answers he needed, he still had to take care of Dean. It was an odd occasion when the roles were switched, but Sam secretly liked it a lot. Taking care of Dean felt kind of like getting the opportunity to take care of your guardian angel. It was the least Sam could do.

"Alright, Dean. Let's get going then." Sam stood up, reaching down for the rest of the six pack container. Despite Sam swatting at his hand, Dean snagged another beer out of it before Sam managed to put it back in the trunk. Unopened bottle in hand, Dean clambered into the passenger seat, fumbling with the seatbelt. If Sam reached over and helped Dean with that, Dean would punch him in the nose, sober or not. So Sam just waited until Dean's seatbelt finally clicked, starting the engine and pulling back onto the road.

When Sam finally pulled into some shabby motel, Dean was fast asleep against the passenger window. His empty fourth beer bottle was dangling from his fingertips and his lips were parted slightly. The only time Dean slept with his mouth open was when he was drunk. Sam got out of the car, locking it just to be safe, and went to get them a room. He transferred all of their bags from the impala to the motel room before he went to go wake up Dean. Shaking him or blaring the car horn wasn't going to work, plus it was the middle of the night, so he'd wake up everyone at the motel. So Sam just crouched next to the passenger door, opening it carefully. Sam was ready to catch Dean as he half fell out of the car, his weight suddenly all on top of Sam at once. 

"Hey, what the hell..." Dean muttered, blinking his eyes open groggily. Sam wrapped his arms underneath Dean's, hauling him up to his feet. Once Dean could feel ground underneath him, he pulled forward roughly, shaking Sam off of him. Sam sighed as Dean stumbled to the first door he saw, trying the handle to find it locked. 

"It's the next one," Sam said, his shoulders sinking with defeat. Dean was making this very difficult. How was Sam supposed to help Dean if Dean didn't want to be helped? Dean grunted in response, opening the door to their room and stepping inside. Sam followed him, closing and locking the door behind them.

Dean was a lot more disoriented than he was full out drunk, which was more difficult to deal with. If Dean was just drunk, Sam would be able to get him to lie down and sleep while Sam held him close. But Dean still was sober enough to have an opinion.

"You should probably shower in the morning," Sam commented, basing his assumption on how Dean managed to trip over three things already on his way to the bed. Dean just nodded his head and sunk down onto the mattress. He tugged at his boots for a moment before giving up and swinging his legs up. Sam moved his way to the other side of the bed, sitting down on the edge. Dean turned to look at him, his eyes only half-there.

"Uh uh. No way. You are _so_ not sleeping here." Dean looked at Sam disapprovingly, like a mother looking at her toddler.

"Dean, listen-" 

"Nope. I am sleeping alone and that is that and you can get your big ass over it because that's just how it's going to be." Dean stood up from the bed and yanked back the sheet, grabbing both of the pillows and stacking them on top of each other. He plopped himself back down, wrapping the sheets around himself and facing away from Sam. Sam sighed, defeated, and made his way to his own bed. 

This was going to be a long night, but an even longer morning. Sam was definitely not looking forward to cranky hungover Dean. Soo not going to be fun. Stupid Siren, had to go and fuck everything up. After they had been doing so much better too. That was just Sam's luck though, wasn't it?


	15. Animosity (Death Takes a Holiday - 04x15)

"What the hell?"

"Guess again." Castiel almost grinned as Dean turned around. It was a good day and getting better, and he didn't even get yelled at for materializing behind Dean. More often times than not, his charge was fairly upset when Castiel appeared. Today though, he almost seemed alright with it.

"What just happened?" Castiel could't read Dean's most inner thoughts, but his frontal ones were easy to pick up on. Cas (Castiel enjoyed the nickname, although he did not tell Dean that) finally got the chance to tell Dean some good news. "You and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alistair."

Dean's face didn't look as full of joy as it should be.

"Dean, this is a victory." Castiel furrowed his brows, a little confused at Dean's reaction.

"Yeah, well, no thanks to you." Dean had said this before, but this time felt more routine and had a lot less vengeance in the words. He almost shrugged while saying them, making them just words with hardly any meaning behind them. Still, Castiel wanted Dean to understand what really happened.

"What makes you say that?" Castiel asked, tilting his head a bit. Dean's face relaxed a bit as he blinked and took in Cas's words. He wasn't on guard as much as he usually was around Cas.

"You were here, the whole time?" Dean had begun to get emotional again. _He was here, and he didn't tell me? He didn't help me?_ Dean thoughts read loud and clear. But he was wrong, Castiel had to make him know that. His anger was justified if that had truly been the case, but it wasn't.

"Enough of it." Castiel said, making himself look away from Dean's face. Maybe he was indulging in Dean just a bit too much. His eyes shifted to the ground guiltily with his words. 

"Well thanks for your help with the rock salt." Dean was hurt. He was losing his handle on his emotions, his eyes watering a little. He thought Castiel had been here, but had abandoned him, just standing by to watch. But no, he was wrong.

"That script on the funeral, we couldn't penetrate it." Dean took in the words and set his memory back, his eyes shifting to the side as he remembered. His voice lightened up, realization finally hitting him.

"That was angel proofing." Castiel nodded, glad Dean finally understood.

"Why do you think I recruited you and Sam in the first place?" Castiel finally let himself look back over at his charge. Dean's emotions were much more under control now.

"You recruited us?"

"That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, Dean. It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal." Castiel watched as Dean's barriers against him slowly began to crumble. They weren't at "trust" yet, but maybe they were at least allies.

"It was you." Castiel nodded and looked down, a little guilty to have deceived Dean into helping him. Dean didn't like being deceived either.

"If you wanted our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?" Castiel was fairly sure their relationship was going for the positive, or else this conversation would have been a lot less patient on Dean's side.

"Because whatever I ask," Castiel looked up at Dean again, showing there was no animosity in his next words. "You seem to do the opposite."

Dean acknowledged this mentally, then changed the topic to avoid verbally agreeing to Castiel's observation. They both knew it was true, and that was what mattered. Dean still had something bothering him though.

"So, what now? Everyone in this town, they're just gonna start dying again?" 

"Yes." 

"These are good people." Dean's voice was broken, like it killed him to not be able to save every single human on this earth. "Don't you think you can make a few exceptions?"

That was one of Castiel's favorite things about Dean. His gut instinct to save as many people as he can, to bring as much happiness as he can. Always the white knight.

"To everything there is a season." Castiel did not expect Dean to fully understand this, he was only human. But he could try to make this easier on Dean.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed, his next words more questioning than accusing.

"You made an exception for me." Castiel could feel the beat of Dean's heart in his chest, the steady, post-adrenaline rush beat, his breathing matching in time. He just looked at Castiel for a while as Castiel tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't give away the emulsified beating in his own chest.

"You're different." He finally said. Dean's eyes searched his, like he was looking for Castiel to finish the sentence, to say what else he had been thinking. What Castiel had been trying not to think since the moment he laid his eyes on Dean, hanging from his rack in the pit. But Castiel wasn't planning on saying it any time soon, or thinking it any time he didn't have to. It wasn't until recently he'd let himself think it at all. And he wasn't sure yet how much trouble it was going to cause. 

So Castiel left the scene before his mouth decided to think on it's own accord and say something it really should not. Being around his charge was having a funny affect on Castiel, and not just on the beating of his heart. He felt like he was changing, but for some reason, it felt like changing for the better.


	16. Stagnant (On the Head of a Pin - 04x16)

Dean was already pissed when he got into the motel room, he did _not_ need this angel bullshit right now. He did _not_ need being bossed around like a soldier, and he definitely did **not** need Castiel's pansy-ass responses and weird stand-offish attitude. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on with his angel, but whatever it was, it wasn't good and it happened to just be pissing him off even more. The last thing he remembered before getting his ass angel-hauled was looking over at Sam, the only one who seemed to be on his side right now.

Then he was suddenly in some warehouse staring at Alistair through a small dirty window. Castiel was behind him, talking. The proximity of Cas's body was familiar, but everything else seemed off.

"Where's the door?" Dean demanded, deciding he was absolutely not putting up with this shit. Of course, the Uriel deuschbag decided to stand in the way, echoing off more threats. Dean really did not feel like putting up with this. 

"I get it, you're all powerful and you can do what you want, but you can't make me do this." For his last words, Dean turned around and directed them to Castiel, hoping that somewhere inside that new barrier of his, Cas (the old Cas, his Cas) would understand that this was too much.

"This is too much too ask. I know." Cas turned towards Dean, approaching him. "But we have to ask it."

Castiel's eyes were scaring Dean a bit. It looked like he was in an internal battle with himself, and neither side seemed to be doing anything but taking hits. Something was very wrong with his angel. Dean finally looked down, away from Cas's eyes, before he turned to Uriel.

"I wanna talk to Cas alone." Cas was watching Uriel carefully, making sure his face stayed stagnant.

"I think I'll go seek _revelation_ ," Uriel put extra emphasis on the word while looking at Cas, almost making the word seem like a warning. Finally he flapped off, leaving Dean feeling a lot less anxious. He turned to Cas, trying to figure out just what the hell was wrong. Castiel's sense of humour was still dry, so at least that didn't change.

Dean walked up to Castiel, analyzing the angel in front of him with every step. Once he was at their normal conversation distance (or a little further apart, just cause he wasn't sure what was up with this Cas), he asked his question.

"What's goin' on, Cas?" Castiel's eyes weren't battling quite so much, but he still looked like a horse was stepping on his foot. "Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"

Cas looked down before he answered, like he was trying to find the words to say that wouldn't give away too much. Finally he looked back at Dean, he voice a thousand times more formal than the last time Dean had seen him.

"My superiors began to question my sympathies." What the hell could that mean? Castiel's eyes kept on looking away from Dean, constantly looking at the ground, or the walls, anything besides who was standing right in front of him. That was definitely not like Cas at all, normally the guy was bordering on creepy with how intently he looked at Dean.

"Your sympathies?" 

"I was getting to close to the humans in my charge." Again, he looked away. "You."

Oh. Dean still wasn't totally crystal clear on what that meant, but fuck the angels and their insistence on not showing emotions. That was a ton of bullshit anyways. Castiel should be able to feel however he fucking wanted too. But the way Cas said the words made something deep inside Dean shift a little bit, like someone had just told him he wasn't allowed to ever have pie again or something. Okay, maybe a little less shallow of a feeling, but still, it felt like something was ripped away from him. Like he was banned from Cas or something. Not sure what that fluttering in his chest at the idea of being banned from Cas meant, Dean looked down, not wanting Cas to see the emotions rippling through his eyes.

"They feel I've begun to express emotions. Or doorways to doubt." That wasn't fucking fair. Dean would go up there and kick every single one of those angel asses if Cas asked him too. "This can impair my judgement."

Now Dean couldn't keep his eyes off of Cas for some reason, and he couldn't stop thinking about what emotions Cas had gotten in trouble for. But he knew that look, the look Castiel was wearing. How it was to have to follow an order, no matter how horrible of an order it seemed. Dean had lived that life, and it wasn't Cas he blamed for this. It was the one giving the orders that was so screwed up. Still, Cas wouldn't look at him, and had moved his entire body to shift away from Dean. Dean considered stepping forward and placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder, turning Cas to face him.

 _Well fuck them, Cas. You don't need them. Who are they to tell you how you can (feel about) act around me? I need you on my side man, I need my angel. I can't do this without you. Or at least, I don't really want to._ But Dean doesn't say any of it, he just continues walking past Castiel and changes the topic. 

"Well tell Uriel, or whoever, you do not want me doin' this. Trust me." Dean didn't see the flash of emotions across Castiel's face, he was too busy swarming in his own memories of down under.

"Want it, no. But I've been told we need it." This wasn't up to Cas, Dean knew that. But he wished the angel could do something to stop it. 

"You ask me to open that door and walk through it," and he would, Dean would do it if Cas asked, and Cas knew that, "You will not like what walks back out."

He'd given Castiel fair warning. Given them all fair warning. Dean knew though, that not even _he_ would like what walks back out.

"For what it's worth," (it was actually worth a lot more to Dean than Castiel would ever know) "I would give anything. Not to have you do this."

Dean shut his eyes against the tears building in his throat. He knew Castiel was doing the same, he could hear the tears in his words. But both of them knew what had to happen, and both of them were prepared to follow through with their orders. After all, isn't what they both were? Just good soldiers. Here to tear apart and torture some demon, tearing apart and torturing what was left of Dean in the process. Dean just hoped he'd still be able to look Cas in the eyes after what he was about to do in there. Because whatever purity Dean had left, he was about to lose when he crossed that threshold. But he crossed it anyways.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The only thing really on Castiel's mind as he stabbed Alistair in the chest with the knife, was inflicting as much pain on this demon as he possibly could. This demon, that had carved his charge into a million pieces a million times. This demon, who deserved the worst punishment imaginable. It was probably all the revengeful thoughts that made Castiel's stab wound a bit too high and to the right. He didn't hit Alistair's heart, and now Alistair was pulling the knife out. 

Castiel could sense Dean slipping into unconsciousness on the floor. Cas was on his own, but he _would_ destroy this creature of hell. At least, that's what he thought until his back was stabbed onto the wall. Then his only thoughts was that he had to survive this, because if he didn't, Alistair would kill Dean. And there wasn't a worse thought Castiel could imagine than having Dean dragged back into that pit, where Dean thought he belonged. Dean was wrong, so wrong, and Castiel never even got the chance to tell him. He never got the chance to tell him anything really, Castiel still had so much to say. But then all of his thoughts were interrupted by the sharp white pain of being ripped slowly from his vessel, his grace starting to gravitate back towards heaven. 

If Samuel hadn't flung Alistair off him in that moment, Cas would be long gone and unable to protect Dean. Castiel fell to his knees, finding it ironic that he was on his knees before the very abomination that had fell to his knees so many times before, begging for help and forgiveness from the heavens. But Sam had appeared, and was able to save Dean when Castiel could not. It wasn't his own life that Castiel was grateful for, it was Dean's. And so in this moment, Castiel decided that Sam wasn't as much of a poison as he originally believed.

Sam still had the ability to save his brother, and so Sam was important in Castiel's book. It had always been this way though, Castiel knew. Sam would save Dean, Dean would save Sam. They lived for each other and their lives were practically entwined. Cas knew this, and he had at one point been quite jealous of the bond. But he understood, he understood that it was something just the two of them shared. Sam could never be replaced in Dean's life, not by anyone. Not even by Cas.

But that didn't mean Castiel didn't have a place in Dean's life too. They could both be there. Maybe one day, Sam wouldn't want or need Dean anymore. And Castiel knew, that on that day, he'd be there for Dean. Dean could always turn to him. But for now, he'd do his best to keep Dean, and still not intrude on the brothers' bond. It was something Castiel was quite willing to do, especially if the outcome of it was what he expected. Maybe they could win this war after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam had never felt so powerless in his life. He sat here by Dean's hospital bedside, looking at his broken and bruised brother. Dean, who he hadn't been able to protect in time. Dean, his everything. Who he was keeping secrets from, but that he would have done what he had to do today a hundred times over if it meant that he could save Dean. Dean, who was pretending what they had wasn't important, that they shouldn't be allowed to find comfort in each other. Dean, who had been denying Sam and fighting what they had and who was seeing through the thin veil of Sam's lives. Dean, who had been dragged away from him, forced into what he'd been running from since the day he got back. Dean, who was missing a piece of him, the piece that was okay with loving Sam. Dean, who didn't deserve any of this. Dean, who Sam hadn't been able to protect. If only Sam had been better, moved faster, maybe he could have-

His thoughts were interrupted by a figure in the doorway. Castiel. Sam stood, reluctant to leave Dean's bedside. But he needed to give that angel a piece of his mind. He stormed into the hallway, undaunted by Castiel's powerful stance.

"Sam," Castiel started.

"Get in there and heal him." Sam was not messing around, and he wasn't afraid of the angel. Even if he hadn't seen the softness in Castiel's eyes when he looked at Dean, Sam still wouldn't cower away from him. If Cas was here he better fucking fix his mistake. Right fucking now. "Miracles. Now."

"I can't." Castiel growled.

"You and Uriel, put him in there-" Sam said, his temper exploded.

"No-" Castiel tried to interject. Sam didn't give a damn if Cas thought this wasn't his fault. It was damn well his fault.

"Because you can't keep a simple devil's trap together."

"I don't know what happened." Sam had never seen Cas so upset before. If he wasn't upset himself, he'd be sorry for the angel. Cas looked like he was a wreck, tearing himself apart over this. Well good, it was his fault. He should feel damn guilty. "That trap, it shouldn't have broken. I am sorry."

"This whole thing was pointless. Do you understand that?" His Dean was hurt, broken, because of some stupid plan by the angels. If Dean's body was this bad, Sam can't even imagine what the torture must have been to his mental psyche. Sam set Castiel straight before he turned on his heel and stormed off. He'd already spent too much time wasted on that angel.

As soon as Sam entered the room again, his heart broke a little more. He swept over to Dean's bedside, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

"I'll get you better myself. I promise. I won't let them take you from me again." Sam whispered into Dean's hair, closing his eyes and placing another tender kiss before sitting back down by Dean's bed. There was still no response from him, but the doctor said he was fairly sure he'd survive this. Sam looked down at his hands, breathing in a shaky breath. His head jerked up quickly when he heard Dean inhale softly.

"Sammy?" He whispered, his eyes still shut. Sam practically lunged for Dean's hand, taking it in his own and stroking small circles into with his thumb.

"Shh, Dean. You don't have to talk." Sam tried his best not to let his eyes tear up at the sight of Dean so weak.

"I need to tell you something," Dean croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper. Dean's eyes fluttered open a bit. Sam squeezed Dean's hand.

"Not now, okay? Whatever it is, it can wait." Dean parted his lips as though to protest, but squeezed his eyes shut in pain. He nodded weakly, small enough for anyone besides Sam not to have seen it. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief. Maybe his Dean was going to be okay. 

"I have to go do something, but I'll be back soon, okay?" Sam lifted Dean's hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. "I won't be gone long."

Dean gave another one of his invisible nods. Sam stood hesitantly, wishing he could just stay here by Dean's bedside instead of having to update Bobby. But he'd promised Bobby he'd let him know if Dean woke up, or so much as moved a muscle. And considering how much Bobby had done for them, he deserved that much.

Sam paused at the door and turned as he heard Dean inhale again.

"Where's Cas?" Dean hoarse-whispered. Sam's mouth hardened. 

"He was here earlier. I don't know if he's coming back." Dean just looked down, shielding his response from Sam. Sam had no choice but to sigh and leave Dean alone for a moment. If Cas popped up while he was gone, then hey, at least Cas got to tell Dean his little sorry sob story to his face.


	17. Ostentatious (It's a Terrible Life - 04x17)

Sam was almost afraid to sit on the couch the apartment was so ostentatious. So he settled for sitting on the back of it, watching Dean's pretty features as he paced across his apartment to get more of his weird yellow juice. 

"Holy crap, dude." Not 100% sure what part of this crazy mess Dean was talking about, but all of it kind of fit under that category.

"Yeah. I could use a beer." 

"Aw, sorry man, I'm on a cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house." Well there goes Sam's plan to get Dean drunk enough to lay him down on the couch. Looks like he needed a new plan.

"Hey, how the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" Dean handed Sam a water bottle, which wasn't going to do much, but whatever. Dean kind of half-laughed, which was pretty adorable. Which was kind of odd because adorable was not the word Sam would have picked to describe the manager. He was thinking a lot more dirty adjectives than that.

"Crazy, right? And nice job kicking in that door, too. That was very jet-league. What are you, like a black belt or somethin?" Sam snorted. Not in his lifetime.

"No. I have no clue how I did that. But I guess that gives us the brains and the brawn." Dean smirked, stepping a little closer. He propped himself up on the back of the couch with one of his arms, looking sideways at Sam as he spoke.

"You could definitely be the brawn with that body." Dean teased, looking him up and down obviously. Sam tilted his head, surprised. His mouth formed a half smile as he spoke.

"I think it should be the brawn and the beauty, then." Dean pushed himself off the couch, closing what little space was left between them. 

"You think I'm beautiful?" Dean's words were playful, but his voice was deeper than it had been a moment ago. Sam answered by letting his eyes trail to Dean's lips. The corner of Dean's mouth raised in a smirk as he brought his fingertips to his lips, swiping his fingers across his bottom lip. Sam wanted so badly to dive forward and close the space between them, but he still kind of had this thing where he felt like Dean was in charge of this whole situation. Maybe it was because Dean actually was in charge, at least from a manager to tech-boy point of view. 

But Dean did lean forward finally, his mouth pressing against Sam's. The kindergarden kiss only lasted for a second before hands were untucking shirts and mouths were being opened up, tongues swiping inside. Sam ran his hands over Dean's body, appreciating the warmth and muscles of his back. Why the hell was Dean on a diet? Dean's hands were playing with the hem of Sam's shirt, but after a little while he grew impatient and tugged it up, making them break the kiss. Sam lifted his arms and threw his shirt all the way off, his mouth connecting with Dean's again the moment it was gone. Now his hands were on the Dean's button-up, reaching around to the front. Sam lifted his mouth away from Dean's again, looking into those gorgeous green eyes now darkened with lust. 

"Remember when I came into your office and you told me to shut the door as you buttoned up your shirt? Ever since then I have been _dying_ to unbutton it." Sam's voice was low, and his lips barely centimeters from Dean's ear as his hands slowly undid each button, one by one. Dean groaned and threw his head back, his thumbs digging into Sam's bare hipbones.

"Can't you go any faster than that? I mean, with those tech-boy fingers and all..." Dean trailed off as Sam finished the last button, pulling the shirt off of Dean and pressing their chests flush together with his hands splayed across Dean's back. Dean leaned up and caught Sam's mouth again, his teeth running across Sam's bottom lip. Sam groaned and tightened his grip on Dean, causing their bodies to go flush at other parts too. Dean led them, sort of half stumbling, around to the front of the couch. He pushed Sam down onto the pillows, (he was freakishly strong for a sales manager), throwing his legs on either side of Sam's hips. Sam bucked up involuntarily, the friction causing them both to moan. Dean's lips were parted and wet, and that was probably going to be the death of Sam. Just when he thought this couldn't possibly get any more hot, Dean leaned forward and whispered into Sam's ear.

"Is there anything else those tech-boy fingers of yours can do? Why don't you show your boss just how skilled you are?" 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was the first time Dean had typed up a report and been wishing he was somewhere else. He couldn't stop thinking about Sam, and about his proposition. To leave his life and his job, go run off like some teenage kid. But it also would mean motel rooms with Sam, which, after what happened at Dean's apartment and then the adrenaline rush makeout session again in his office (don't you remember Wesson sitting right in this chair, pulling you by your suspenders down into his lap? (before you got into that fight and told him to leave)), sounded like it'd be pretty freaking fun. But Dean wasn't really one to do things just for fun. He was practical, and a logical thinker, but no matter what he told himself, all logic seemed to point to Sam. Dean definitely wasn't one for all that mushy romantic stuff, but there was this feeling he had in his gut, this feeling that Sam was the one he was supposed to be with. 

Dean's life contemplating thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Adler walked into the room. Crap, totally not who Dean needed to see right now.

"How are you feeling Dean?" Like I just threw away one of the awesomest opportunities ever.

"Uh, great."

"You look a little tired." Well yeah, I got my assed hauled by a ghost. (Although he was pretty sure the aching was from tech-boy fingers, but hey, at least they didn't screw each other. Then he'd be way way more tired.) "Been working hard, I gather."

"Uh, yeah." More like making out with Wesson hardcore. Dean was pretty sure that wasn't what Mr. Adler meant though.

"Don't be modest. I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing. That's why it's important to me that you're happy." 

Dean's mind was swirling as his superior told him about the raise. This was everything he'd worked towards, but for some reason, it wasn't what Dean wanted. Maybe if Sam had been out of the picture, maybe Dean would've taken the job then. But he couldn't, he couldn't go back to boring every day life after he'd gotten a night or two of actually _living_.

"Thank you, thank you sir, but. I am, uh. Giving my notice." Well, he hadn't been sure about it before, but there you go. He was doing this.

"This is a joke."

"No, I recently, very recently, realized I have some other work I have to do. It's very important to me." And so is Wesson. He's very important to me too. Dean tried explaining, but he finally just came to the words that made the most sense. "It's not who I'm supposed to be."

Okay, now Mr. Adler was smiling. This is unexpected. Even more unexpected though, is when Mr. Adler reached forward and returned all of Dean's memories. Fuck. 

"The hell?" Dean Winchester touched his tie, looking around him as he took in everything that happened over the past couple weeks. The rabbit food, the car (god, the car), the ghost, and...fuck. And Sam. (Although Smith and Wesson, that was pretty good, and if Dean was any less pissed, he'd comment. But he was pissed.)

"Wait did I-" Did I just have my brother's fingers up my ass last night? Did I put my mouth on Sam's...did I give my brother a fucking blow job? Did that even count? Like, Sam hadn't come in his mouth or anything, but still...holy fuck. No, no, no. Just when they had been avoiding all that stuff after the stupid siren. All that shit the dick had said...that "he didn't want some bitch in a g-string he wanted you" crap wasn't enough? 

Getting Pamela killed wasn't enough? Turning back into a torturing monster wasn't enough? Finding out Dean was the reason for the apocalypse...now all on top of more shit with Sam. Dean was trying, he really was, doing his best to get the fuck out of this mess. Sam was his _brother_ and Dean didn't want to need him right now. Not when there were the mystery phone calls and the lies and this mess with Alistair and what Dean was and now this thing with Sam. 

God, as soon as they didn't have their memories...now Dean's ass was sore and he'd given Sam a half-blowjob that meant his lips had actually been wrapped around...all when it didn't meant anything. It didn't even _mean_ anything. The first time he does anything he really shouldn't with Sam and it wasn't even them. It was just their bodies, and all that flirting and fake injected angel shit in their heads. If Dean didn't hate angels before now...

Oh, this guy was so going to die. And what was that, he was Castiel's superior? So this was _also_ one of the dicks that made Cas think he was wrong to "get close to his charge" or whatever the hell he'd said. This was the guy forcing Cas into submission, into not being allies or friends or whatever he was with Dean. Just another reason on the list of reasons to kill this son of a bitch.

"So I'm just hallucinating all this?" _Please please please say I am._

"Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked in the middle without the benefit of your memories. Now Dean, don't get upset. It wasn't me who invited Sam Wesson to your apartment, that was you."

"Yeah, because you took all our memories away, you dick."

"Funny how as soon as you no longer have the mind block of being related, you instantly wind up in each other's beds. Don't blame me for that Dean, you've been quick on the road from brothers to lovers for some time now. I just figured I'd let you see it without your twenty something years of bias against it."

Dean was so not taking any of this shit. 

"Angel or not, I will stab you in your face."

"Dean, I can take your memories away again if you really want. You can go steam yourself another latte. You could be with Sam, no complications or issues. You could be just another pair of hunters, with no worry about the apocalypse. If you really wanted that, I could give it to you. But as tempting as it is, I don't think you do."

Dean knew the angeldick was right. It was a pretty thought, living that worry free life. But he couldn't do that to Sam. Sam deserved a whole hell of a lot better than what Dean Smith could give him. So Dean shook his head no. This wasn't the life Sammy deserved. Although he didn't deserve the apocalypse shit either, at least Dean (the real one) had a chance at protecting Sam when he had all of his memories on his side.

"I'll take the apocalypse. If it means Sam gets his damn memory back too." 

Zachariah smiled wickedly. Dean had a feeling this was all going exactly how Zachariah had wanted. Now here comes the speech about the whole destiny crap. That "you'll find your way to it in the dark every time" hunting shit that Dean could really do without having to hear from this dick's mouth. So Dean was supposed to save the world. Well that was just great. 

Once the angel flapped off, the first thing Dean did was reach for his phone. (Damn Blackberry like Sam's). He hesitated slightly before dialing Sam's number, but figured they'd have to get this awkward conversation over with some time or another.

"Hey, you Wesson or Winchester?" Dean was filled with relief as he heard Sam chuckle softly. So his memories _were_ back. Dean wasn't exactly sure if it was a great thing, but it was what they got. 

"Are we gonna talk about this?" Sam asked. Since when did Dean like talking about anything?

"No."

"C'mon man, don't I get to tease you at least once with the sounds you made?"

"I will kick your ass through the phone."

"Speaking of which, how is yours feeling?"

"Sam, I literally will kill you. Do not test me on this." Sam just laughed again, but thankfully changed the subject. Dean let out a breath he was definitely aware he was holding. Right now, on top of everything, they couldn't deal with this. Absolutely no, not ever. Dean could definitely do without Sam's teasing, because this was hard enough to handle anyways, with Zachariah's words echoing through his head. Those stupid words that were going to end everything. 

_You were quick on the road from brothers to lovers anyways._


	18. Vexatious (The Monster at the End of this Book - 04x18)

"I'm sitting in a laundry mat, reading about myself sitting in a laundry mat, reading about myself, my head hurts." Sam didn't know why Dean was playing along with this guy's game. Like really, there was no way. Just period. No way.

"There's gotta be something this guy's not telling us." Sam was already in a pretty pissed mood, so Dean off rambling and commentating every move he made was getting pretty vexatious. Dean was taking this way too lightly. But then again, he also hadn't been the one to read the pages Chuck had written about last night. Sam had pulled Chuck aside, whisper-screaming into his face. 

_"What the hell is this?" Sam shoved the papers at Chuck's chest. Chuck backed up into the wall, shaking his head and pleading._

_"I don't ever publish those parts, I just write them down so I have a better feel for the characters. I-I swear." Sam glared at the writer._

_Chuck had the audacity to write down last night's events._

How Sam had cornered Dean in their motel room, made him fess up about everything that Zachariah had told him. Even about the whole road from brothers to lovers thing that Dean was so goddamned upset about. And how Dean had stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door, pissed at Sam for bringing it up and insisting they talk about it. Sam had banged on the door until Dean finally got fed up and swung it open, his mouth already open to scream at Sam. And how Sam had pushed Dean back against the sink and kissed him before he could bitch at Sam again, not stopping until both of their lips were bruised. 

How Sam had backed up after that, watching Dean touch his lips with his fingertips, kind of just standing there in awe. And how Dean had stepped forward, Sam flinching as Dean brought up his hand (thinking Dean was going to punch him). Then how Dean put his hand on the back of Sam's head and pulled him down to kiss him again. How Dean had pushed Sam towards one of the beds, both of them tumbling on it in a tangle of limbs and sheets. How they'd ended up smiling and bickering as they got so caught up in each other they couldn't move without putting an elbow in someone's side or a knee in someone's stomach. Then Sam finally rolled up and hovered over Dean, their faces just inches apart, both of their eyes locked on each other's lips. 

How he'd leaned down, closed the space between them with a happy kiss. They kissed for a while, Dean rolling on top of Sam at one point and both of them generally battling it out with a gentle wrestling match that kept their mouths still attached. They were at it for a while before Sam finally broke it off with a gulp of well-needed air, laying his head down next to Dean's on the pillow. Sam had looked into Dean's beautiful eyes and said "fuck the angels." and how Dean had laughed at that, laughed for the first time Sam had heard in a long time. How Sam was happier in that moment than he had been in a long time. And how they'd fallen asleep like that, arms wrapped around each other, still in their blue jeans. 

_Chuck had written that all down. All of Sam's private, happy thoughts. Written them all down._

_So yeah, Sam had a reason to be pissed._

And Dean kept on commentating every move Sam was making.

"Stop it!"

"'Stop it!' Sam said." Dean smart-mouthed. Sam just glared at him. "Guess what you do next."

"Sam turned his back on Dean. His face, brooding and pensive." Yeah, Sam was absolutely going to kill Chuck. And Dean. Both sounded good.

"I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders." _What a dick._ Just because Dean knew Sam well enough to think he could label every little thing he did, didn't mean he should. Really? Brooding and pensive shoulders? Since when did Dean ever pay attention to Sam's shoulders? The worst part was that Sam knew it was true, that Dean could probably tell exactly what his face looked like, hell, probably exactly what he was thinking, just by looking at his goddamn shoulders. Normal people would think it was odd that they could read each other that well, but they both didn't know anything different.

"You just thought I was a dick." Sam heard the slightly hurt, confused tone in Dean's voice. But hey, he had it coming.

"Guy's good." Sam said, rubbing it in a bit more. Dean made a face.

"Let's see if there's anything else in here that tells me what thoughts are running through that freaky head of yours." Dean started leafing through the pages. Oh no, there was no way Sam was going to let Dean see what he was thinking. Dean would probably punch him for half of the thoughts that crossed his mind.

Sam stalked forward and snatched the papers out of Dean's hands.

"Hey! Get your own copy." Dean tried to reach for the papers, but Sam held them way above his hands.

"There's no way I'm gonna let you read what I'm thinking."

"Why not, Sammy? All porn and dirty thoughts in there? Or maybe it's princessey things you're too shy to share."

"Screw you, Dean."

"Or maybe it's that. Thoughts about screwing me." Dean raised his eyebrows, looking at Sam with one of his charmer smiles. Sam just turned around and stuffed the papers in his bag.

"That's enough reading for you today. Wouldn't want your head to hurt anymore than it already does." Dean kicked Sam's shin at that, but Sam just continued to ignore him. He couldn't wait til they got this whole Chuck thing sorted out, it was making everything in his life just that much more complicated.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was the first time Castiel had really yelled at Dean, yelling was a sign of emotion, but it was necessary.

"Dean, let him go!" Dean whipped around. Cas wasn't sure if it was the yelling or the recognition of Castiel's voice that made Dean turn so quickly with such a pissed expression. They hadn't exactly been on the best terms the last time they'd seen each other, which could be part of the reason for Dean's anger. Or maybe it was because everything was coming true and he feared for his brother.

"This man is to be protected." His voice was normal now, but Dean's anger didn't seem to be subsiding.

"Why?" Dean's question was roughly spoken, like he couldn't trust Castiel.

"He's a prophet of the lord."

Castiel picked up a novel, thumbing through the words as Dean got out his temper on the prophet.

"This is the guy who decides our fate?" 

"He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece." Castiel decided being engrossed in this book would be a much better idea than having to face Dean and his temper and his wild green eyes. "One day these books will be known as the Winchester gospel."

"You've gotta be kidding me." Dean and the prophet said in unison. Castiel finally put the book down and looked at Dean, his eyebrows knitted together.

"I am not. Kidding you." Dean just stood, trying to soak in the idea. Chuck excused himself (Castiel tried not to look into his mind for the reason why-he had a feeling Chuck wanted to give Dean and himself time alone. Castiel knew Chuck could see parts of his mind, so he feared Chuck knew his internal struggle with his feelings for Dean) and Castiel was left with nothing to do but look at Dean. Unfortunately there were no other excuses to look at in the room without drawing suspicion.

"The order comes from high up on the chain of celestial command."

"How high?"

"Very." Castiel was less guarded now. This was a bit of an easier conversation, one that Cas could handle. Just facts and questions. Maybe Dean hadn't lost his trust in Castiel after the hospital talk after all.

"Well whatever. How do we get around this?" Dean's eyes were searching. He needed help. But for what? He was very upset about this still. Castiel could not understand why.

"Around...what?"

"This Sam Lilith love connection! How do we stop it from happening?" Oh. Castiel turned his head as he came to the realization. Dean wasn't upset about the prophet, he didn't want his brother in bed with another demon. Or falling in love with someone else. This was the problem. Castiel tried his best not to let his disappointment show, his despair in Dean's true intentions. He looked up to the heavens, trying to get a grasp on his emotions (jealousy) that were running wild.

"What the prophet has written, can't be unwritten." Castiel finally turned to Dean again, hoping that maybe Dean would see the reason here. Dean just looked at him, confused. "As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass."

Dean turned on his heel promptly. He began to walk towards the door, not even bothering with a goodbye.

"Dean."

"What?" He turned around, his anger pulsing, but at least not directed towards Castiel.

"Dean, you can't alter the pages. It is of no use."

"Watch me." Dean said, his eyebrows raised. He turned around again. Still leaving without a goodbye.

"See you 'round Cas." Dean half-shouted, the door closing shut behind him. Alright, so he said goodbye.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"The things you've been doing?" Sam started at that. What did Dean know?

"Oh I know. How you ripped Alistair apart like it was nothing, like you were swattin a fly." Sam looked down, ashamed. But still, it could be worse.

"Cas told me, okay?" That sounded like a confession. Like Dean felt guilty for talking to Cas.

"What else did he tell you?" Sam had no idea how much Castiel knew, but if he was telling Dean things, who knew how much trouble he could cause.

"Nothin I don't already know. That you've been using your physic crap, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why and we don't know how." Sam was trying not to overthink this, but the way Dean kept on mentioning Cas was killing him. Not to mention all the _"we's"_. Dean made it sound like he and Cas sat down every day and had a daily discussion about "what to do about Sam Winchester." How often was Dean seeing Cas anyways? Sam had thought it was just a rare thing. Apparently not.

He was trying not to be jealous, but it kept on getting harder. Much, much harder.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

It was probably too ghetto to work, but Dean was at wit's end here. He wasn't sure how tight of a leash his angel would have on, if he even showed, but he needed help. Desperately.

"Well, I feel stupid doing this, but I am fresh out of options. Please. I need some help." Dean felt vulnerable and foolish, two things he pretty much avoided at all costs. But this had to work. For Sam.

"I'm prayin, okay? C'mon. Please." Dean closed his eyes, sending his thoughts out to Castiel. He pictured his face, Cas's stern blue eyes and fluffy hair, his steely gaze and the way he'd speak without using contractions because he thought it was proper. Of that dirty trenchcoat and the invisible wings, the caring expression that Cas kept so guarded. Pictured it all and just _prayed_ , prayed to his angel.

"Prayer is a sign of faith." Dean turned around to the low voice, hardly believing it actually worked. But here Castiel was, faith speech and all. "This is a good thing, Dean."

Hell yes. Now he could help Dean save Sam.

"So does that mean you can help me?"

"I'm not sure what I can do." 

"Drag Sam out of here now, before Lilith shows up." Castiel's eyes went up to the sky (which Dean had kind of figured meant that he was either trying to make himself be more obedient or he was trying to find a way to disobey without getting smited on the spot).

"It's a prophecy. I can't interfere." Dean's face fell. There was no way Cas was gonna leave him high and dry on this one. He _needed_ him.

"You have tested me, and thrown me every which way." Castiel turned his head, although it was painful for him to look at Dean. "And I have never asked for anything, not a damn thing."

Castiel finally turned to look back at Dean again.

"But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please." Dean could count on one hand the number of people he's said please to before. Castiel looked up again, searching for a way to give Dean an answer.

"What you're asking, it's not within my power to do." This was ridiculous.

"Why, cause it's divine prophecy?"

"Yes."

"What, are we just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen?" There was a difference between following orders and refusing to do the right thing. This was about Sam, and Castiel just wasn't seeming to get that. Dean stared at Castiel, and Castiel looked back, both men's eyes filled with pain.

"I'm sorry," Castiel finally mustered. Dean's expression closed. After everything he'd done, now Castiel was being a dick like all the rest of his angel buddies. And for what. To think that Dean had actually trusted him. Prayed to him. 

"Screw you." Dean ignored the pain in Castiel's eyes. He deserved it. Castiel looked down before Dean could read any more of his emotions. "You and your mission. Your God."

Castiel lifted his eyes to glare. Dean wouldn't be surprised if their relationship didn't make it through this one. Insulting his father, Dean knew personally, that was a barrier you just didn't cross. But you know what? Sam was about to get sucked into this demon shit, and Castiel had the ability to help, and he downright refused.

"You don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me, don't bother knockin'." Castiel's eyes were on the ground again, looking like a wounded dog. Dean let his words dig deep, walking away from the angel to further the pain. 

"Dean," Castiel breathed, the word sounding almost involuntary, like his lips made it happen without his mind's permission. Castiel spoke again, louder this time. "DEAN." 

"What?" Dean said. Any other person (except maybe Sam), Dean would've just kept on walking. But Dean stopped, not really consciously, but felt more like he had too. He needed to. 

"You must understand _why_ I can't intercede. Prophets are very special, they are protected."

"I get that."

"If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat." This story wasn't sounding as much like a bible school lesson than it was an answer. "Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heavens most terrifying weapon."

"Now these archangels, they're tied to prophets?"

"Yes." Dean stepped closer, trying not to let it show that he saw the tears in Castiel's eyes. Cas, who had managed to just give him the best weapon in the heavens, against his orders and his gut instinct. Castiel, who just openly disobeyed because he feared Dean's walking away more than he feared being smited by God's bolt of obedient lightning. But Dean clarified anyways, making sure he read into this situation right.

"So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon..."

"Then the most fierce wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon." Dean watched as Castiel opened his lips to say something more, then closed them instead. Now Dean finally understood. Cas was helping him, and honestly, Dean felt like kind of a dick for being so bad to Castiel. I mean, the guy was still trying not to cry. Which is saying a lot, considering angels don't feel emotions.

"Just so you understand. Why I can't help." Both men knew what had gone unsaid. Both knew the sacrifice that was just made, and both knew the trust that was just formed between them. Dean knew how far Cas would go for him, and Cas knew how badly Dean needed him. All in that one moment, they both knew. Dean didn't have words for all of it, so he just kept it simple.

"Thanks, Cas."

"Good luck."


	19. Conniption (Jump the Shark - 04x19)

It was one of those mornings where everything was just perfect. Sam had parked the impala in front of this lake and was out on the hood, brushing away his morning breath. Both of the boys had the habit of brushing their teeth first thing in the morning, although it wasn't like it really mattered that much. They weren't exactly in a place that they woke each other up with caresses and kisses every morning. It was always a _rise and shine, Sammy_ or a _are you gonna sleep all day?_ or occasionally _goodmorning, princess_. 

Sam woke up first a lot of the time, and he was always glad when he did. Dean was very different when he was sleeping, his face peaceful and sweet (unless he was having nightmares about hell). Except when he slept in the impala, because then he slept in a funny position and woke up either extremely disoriented or cranky.

This morning it was Dean twisting his mouth funny and blinking ridiculously before fumbling for the door handle and half falling out of the car. Disoriented, which was pretty fucking adorable. But not wanting to get his ass kicked first thing in the morning, Sam didn't comment on how cute Dean was when he woke up.

"Hey! How'd you sleep?" Dean stumbled the rest of the way out of the car, still bent in half from being in an awkward position all night. Well, the second half of the night. The first half Dean had spent with his head in Sam's lap before he got restless and woke up, deciding to switch positions and curl up with his head against the window. 

"How do you think?" Dean said. Sam shrugged. It was Dean's fault he was too restless to spend the whole night with Sam as his pillow. Dean looked down for a moment and gained his surroundings before he shut the car door.

"I'm starvin, let's get breakfast." 

"Where? We're like two hours from anything."

"But I'm hungry now." Dean sounded like a damn four year old and it took all of Sam's willpower to not tackle him to the ground on the spot. Early morning Dean was one of Sam's favorites, and the worst part was that he never got the chance to do anything about it.

"There's prolly still a sandwhich in the backseat." Dean lumbered to the back and leaned through the window, picking up a brown bag. 

Sam turned his head back to the lake, looking up at the storm clouds. This would be the perfect morning to just take a day off, sit here on the hood of the impala for a while, or maybe sit in the backseat while it stormed around them, like they used to when they were kids. It'd be the perfect time to lay down in the car and listen to the rain, finally sit down and enjoy being together. Without the stress of the apocalypse or demons or angels or anything. No Castiel, no Ruby, no problems. Just Sam and Dean and the Impala, like it should be. Like how it used to be.

But the loud ringing of a cell phone spoiled all of Sam's plans. He would've convinced Dean to do it too, to take a day off. God knows they both needed it. They weren't even on a hunt yet, and one day wasn't going to make a difference in the end of the world. Or if it did, the world was ending anyways, couldn't they have one last peaceful day together? 

"I hate to break it to you, but John's dead." Sam looked back at Dean, surprised that Dean would tell the caller that. It must be important then. But when Dean shut the phone, his face looked like he'd seen a ghost. Well, what normal people looked like when they saw a ghost. Dean really didn't give a fuck if he saw a ghost.

So Sam listened patiently as Dean had his conniption, already plotting ways to kill this "Adam Milligan." Sam knew Dad was a sensitive subject, so he didn't push Dean too hard on this. Sam allowed the mini tantrum and just handed the keys over to Dean, getting in the passenger seat with a defeated sigh. Today apparently wasn't going to be their day off, but Sam would make sure they got one. They damn right deserved one.


	20. Punctilious (The Rapture - 04x20)

Dean jumped when Cas showed up in his dream. Unfortunately, it was his non-surprise that surprised him even more. At first, Dean didn't realize it was actually the real Cas, he had assumed it had been a dream-Cas. Apparently, his mind didn't even see the slightest strange thing in dreaming about Cas. That's what scared him. 

Cas showed up in his dream and Dean was totally cool with it. Dreaming about somebody you were vaguely denying an attraction to was very much not as straightly heterosexual as Dean would like to be. Not that he'd ever admit that. Yeah, it turned out it was intentional by the real Cas to barge into Dean's dream. But that didn't change the fact that Dean had assumed it was just dream-Cas coming to do...whatever. Not give Dean some coded message, that was for sure. Not that Dean had been expecting dream-Cas to do anything else. Although honestly who knows what Dean had been expecting to happen. 

Hell, maybe Cas had shown up in Dean's dreams before and Dean just hadn't remembered dreaming about the angel. Or maybe he had remembered and then blocked it out like he blocked out the rest of his less-than-heterosexual thoughts. 

Things were complicated enough between him and Sam right now Dean did not need an inter-species romance to add turmoil to his already fucked up relationship/non-relationship with his brother. But Cas showed up in his dreams anyways. 

Which was fine, because Dean was really fucking good at denying everything in his subconscious. And dreaming about Cas definitely fit into that category.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jimmy hadn't slept in just as long as he hadn't eaten, so he was, of course, dead tired. Now that he actually had the choice to lay down and sleep, the idea sounded wonderfully taunting. But Jimmy knew he couldn't. He had to get to his family first, had to see Claire and Amelia. So he lay with his eyes closed, awake and listening for the closest opportunity to sneak out. 

The two men that found him weren't exactly his favorite people anyways. The one that freaked out when he thought Cas was dead - what was his name, Dan maybe? - He wasn't as bad as the tall jealous one. Jimmy knew from his brief moments of being awake that Castiel did not like the tall one much either. They both seemed to clash heads, although Jimmy wasn't sure what for. At least the tall one was more concerned about Castiel than Jimmy had thought he would be. He clearly wasn't as close to the angel as Dan though.

"Sam?" Jimmy heard a gruff whisper in the darkness. That's right, the tall one was a Sam.

"Yeah, Dean?" Well Jimmy had been close with Dan. Kinda just mixed the two names.

"It's pretty cold. Couldn't you do your guard dog routine from over here just as easy?"

"Dean, you are way too distracting."

"But Sammy, I'm gonna freeze to death." Jimmy heard a huffed sigh and something mumbled. Then bed springs creaked and he heard someone hum happily. There was a quick shuffle of sheets, then silence. It was quiet for a while before Jimmy chanced peeking an eye open. He could see Dean's bed from here, and the two bodies pressed closed together on it. Sam, the guard, had his face pressed into Dean's neck, and Dean's eyes were closed contently. The sheets covered the rest of their bodies, but Jimmy was fairly sure that they were touching in as many places as possible. The weirdest part though, (besides the fact that they used "brothers" as their cover, just because Jimmy was a Christian didn't mean he automatically hated gays) was the way the sheets were moving. The two lovers were breathing perfectly in sync. Jimmy had never seen anything _that_ spot on before. It was almost scary to watch. It looked just a little too punctilious. But despite all that, it was kind of sweet. 

Jimmy was fairly sure neither of the boys were waking up any time soon, so he careful rolled out of his covers. He padded gently across the room, looking back at the boyfriends? (Maybe fiances based on how they looked at each other) one last time. Neither one of them so much as stirred, which was surprising since they seemed to be trained for this kind of thing. But they had looked exhausted earlier, so maybe they hadn't gotten much more sleep than Jimmy had. Jimmy just hoped they managed to work this all out. After all, they seemed to look after each other. He figured they'd be just fine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Dean's heart (and his soul) was already shattered into a million pieces right now. He was glad there were still strangers here, more importantly, that there was a stranger standing between Dean and Sam. It gave Dean a reason not to look at Sam, not to feel like he was being ripped to shreds by a hellhound all over again. Dean was fairly sure that the image of his Sammy getting up off the ground with blood smeared all over his mouth was something that would be appearing in Dean's nightmares. He still hadn't had enough time to actually sit down and think about it (thank god) but it still felt more painful than anything Dean had felt in a long time.

Dean was broken, and he needed someone's shoulder to lean on. So as he watched Cas (in a little girl- if this wasn't so intense, he'd tease Castiel for that) place his hands on Jimmy's face, lighting the angel back into his rightful body, Dean's heart (what was left of it) jumped. Castiel was back to normal, back to Castiel, and Dean needed him now more than ever. For the first time he let himself admit, Dean was longing to just step forward and hug the angel. 

But as Cas stood and walked toward him - wait. Walked past him? After Cas looked at Jimmy's family, Dean figured Castiel would turn back to him, so they could talk. Or hug. Or something. But Castiel just turned and kept walking. What the hell?

"Cas, hold up." Castiel was reluctant to turn around, taking his time and avoiding Dean's eyes. Apparently they weren't on so good of terms now. Since when did Castiel speak to Dean from like halfway across the room? Dean found himself almost missing Cas's normal personal-space-bubble intrusion. But he couldn't say any of those things, not out loud. And especially not in front of Cas. Or Sam.

"What were you gonna tell me?" Cas's eyes were cold and hard, no longer emotional and humanlike. Dean's heart started to beat a little faster. What was going on?

"I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve _heaven_ , I don't serve man. And I certainly don't serve you."

Dean could do nothing but just stand numbly. His mind could barely soak in the words, they were so painful. And not just what Castiel said, it was how he said it. There was hate in his voice, hate directed towards Dean. Dean's eyes followed Castiel involuntarily as he turned and walked away. 

Dean was pretty sure he felt like he had just been stabbed in the stomach with a knife. He didn't want to fully realize what just happened. Because it felt almost as bad as watching Sam drink demon blood. There was so much rancor in Castiel's expression, it was going to kill Dean. 

But Dean had dealt with bad breakups before (although never two at once) (and these weren't exactly breakups, but they felt like it) and so he defaulted back to his unbreakable position. Dean shut the world out, shut everything out, wiped every emotion off of his face and out of his body. He couldn't handle all the pain, so he slipped into an oblivion where there was no emotion. He didn't care. Not about Sam, not about Cas, not about the world ending. Not about anything. Nothing fucking mattered anymore. It was all over, all the emotions. Now Dean was just a soldier. Just a soldier in a battle he didn't want to fight.


	21. Inculcated (When the Levee Breaks - 04x21)

"Well it's about time." As if Castiel hadn't felt bad enough already, the wrecked vocal chords of his charge were, of course, his fault. He'd never heard someone's voice so raspy. It couldn't be healthy. And it had to be painful to talk. But Castiel carefully told himself it was just a mere foolish human who did this to himself. It was not of Castiel's concern.

"I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now." Dean shrugged his shoulders in defeat. His eyes were filled with pain, post-heartbreak pain. Dean. Dean had been doing this all for Cas. _No. No he wasn't. It was for his brother. Not for Cas. He didn't actually need Cas._

"What do you want?" Castiel stepped forward slowly. He was not going to get too close to Dean.

"You can start with what the hell happened in Illinois." Castiel did his best not to read Dean's thoughts, but it was like Dean was projecting them into Cas's head. _Why the hell you left me. Why the hell it hurt so bad. What happened to you. We were just starting to get somewhere. You and me, we were in this together, remember? I needed you Cas. And you left. You left me._ Castiel kept his face calm, pretending he wasn't hearing Dean's desperate cries.

"What do you mean?" Still pretending he didn't know exactly what Dean meant.

"Cut the crap. You were gonna tell me something." As if this "crap" was actually that simple to "cut." If only Dean knew what they had done to Castiel when they dragged him back to heaven. If only Dean knew what Cas had gone through, physically and mentally for Dean. Of the torture they inculcated, using his newly formed emotions against him by engraining the thought of Dean hating him over and over. How they'd tell him Dean loved Sam, Dean could never love Castiel. He was being used, used for information, used. And it all made crystal clear sense too. And how after that torture, they had stripped the poisonous emotions from his veins, leaving him empty and hopeless. Drilling him back into a soldier, molding him into the angel he always should have been. Cleansing him of sin and making him appreciate and thank them for it. Then dumping him back here, to let Dean see the shell of the angel he used to be. But Castiel shook those thoughts away. It didn't matter anymore.

"Nothing of import." He simply said. That was exactly what it was too. Nothing of import. Dean was looking at him with tears in his eyes and Castiel just looked away. It was that simple. Just looked away.

"You got ass reamed in heaven. And it was not of import?" Dean was treading into very dangerous water that would end badly for both of them. Castiel remembered their threats, clear as day. _If you make him love you, he will have to be killed. If you ever love him again, he will have to be killed. Do you understand, Castiel?_

"Dean," Castiel interrupted. He couldn't let this conversation go anywhere. He tried to put as much warning and truth into his next two words as he could possibly muster. "I can't."

Dean's eyes were broken. Just as broken as Castiel's, but Castiel would never let that show. Never again.

"I'm sorry." He turned his head, not letting himself look for longer than a few mere seconds. He stepped away, the added space between them helping Cas clear his head. Castiel pretended he didn't notice Dean's head turning as he followed Cas with his gaze. Dean was just another human. Just another human. Not special. Don't think about those green eyes, that wild heart, or perfec-NOT SPECIAL. not.

"Get to the real reason why you called me. It's about Sam, right?" This would prove again to Castiel that heaven was right. Dean only needed Cas because he could help with the one he actually loved. He said Sam's name bitterly, although he realized bitterness was an emotion too. But better to have negative than positive emotions.

Dean took a moment before answering, making the tiniest part of Castiel blink with hope. But he finally spoke.

"Can he do it? Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?" Whatever blink of hope that had been there was gone.

Castiel turned, and explained to Dean what could happen with Sam. It was his orders after all. And then, the next part of his orders. The important part.

"Stand up and accept your role. You are the one who will stop it." Castiel was standing close to Dean again, but not for personal reasons. He knew Dean would be more likely to accept the offer if Castiel was acting more like he used to. So, because it was his orders to do anything it took to convince Dean, Castiel assumed a position that Dean would be more likely to trust him in. It almost felt like lying, standing this close for the wrong reasons. But he did it despite. Orders are orders.

"If I do this, Sammy doesn't have to?" Heaven was right again. Sam is always the one and only. But Castiel still didn't want to give Dean anything more than he had to. He didn't need to comfort the human. It wasn't his job. The offer was his job.

"If it gives you comfort to see it that way." Basically, whatever you want to tell yourself to sleep at night. Dean shook his head slightly, his eyes breaking even more.

"You're a dick these days." Now it was Dean's turned to walk away. Trying to hide emotions. No, Dean felt nothing for him. He felt nothing for Dean.

"Fine, I'm in." 

Castiel stated the words he had engrained into his brain. The words of his mission. And he kept a careful straight face as Dean stated them back. There, mission complete. Castiel did not stay long after Dean had spoken. He had no reason to. So he left Dean in the middle of the car lot, left without a single goodbye.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"MONSTER! I tried so hard to pretend we were brothers. To pretend that I loved you. That every time our lips met it wasn't just another useless hookup. That you weren't one of the filthy things we hunt. We're not even the same species. How could I, ever love something as evil as you? You're nothing to me."

"Don't say that. Don't you say that to me." No. This was the worst of all. Worse than any torture by Alistair, worse than guilt of himself or threats from his mother or Jess. This was Dean, his Dean, the only thing he had left. And Sam was nothing to him. Dean was his everything, and Sam was nothing to Dean.

Sam forced himself to look away, it becoming too physically painful to look at Dean's face. At those beautiful eyes that Sam had spent so many nights just staring into, those eyes that were now condemning him into the worst hell he could imagine.

When he turned his head back and Dean wasn't there, the pain in Sam's chest subsided a little. He no longer felt like he was getting his heart ripped out, at least. Besides, whatever was coming next couldn't be worse than that. That had to be the ultimate pain.


	22. Sonorous (Lucifer Rising - 04x22)

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"Because you swore your obedience. So obey." Oh shit, he did swear. But Cas told him- Cas. Castiel had tricked him into it. Dean flicked his eyes away from Zachariah, looking accusingly at his angel, standing in silence. Castiel looked down guiltily, the ground suddenly becoming his new favorite. Dean nodded internally. He was right, Castiel had tricked him into this, making him think he had a chance at saving the world. Tricked him into obeying Zachariah. I mean, it was Cas's orders and all, but wasn't there _some_ part of Cas left that cared about Dean at all? Dean looked down for just a moment, not wanting Zachariah to see how badly Castiel's trick had affected him. But then his eyes were back on the dick in front of him, his stare turned into full warrior mode now. Dean just kept getting hurt, and he wasn't sure just how much more he could take.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Castiel appeared just in time to see the marble angel shatter on the floor. It was symbolism even his emotionless self couldn't miss.

"You asked to see me." Dean whipped around, guiltily eyeing the shattered angel on the floor. It was just a moment of guilt though, before Dean went back into defensive mode again. His eyes were flighty, looking at everything besides Cas.

"Yeah, listen, I uh, I need somethin'." Castiel knew how stubborn his charge was against asking for assistance. This must be important.

"Anything you wish." 

"I need you to take me to see Sam." Well this conversation just went downhill quite a bit. Castiel wasn't sure how to avoid telling Dean a flat out "no." Although he really shouldn't be surprised, should he? Of course Dean only asked to see him, for the same reason he always seemed to ask. To help Sam.

"Why?" Castiel figured Dean would pick up on the immediate change in tone, but guessed he wouldn't think too much about it. His mind was too focused on his brother.

"There's something I gotta talk to him about." Dean's eyes were guarded and away from Castiel.

"What's that." Hardly a question, more of a demand.

"The BM I took this morning. What's it to you?" It was official: Dean had finally learned to exclude Castiel from his personal life. It used to be an instant, open-up and spill. Now it was all privacy and secrets. As it should be.

"Just make it snappy." So now, Castiel was a public mode of transportation. Well, alright.

"I don't think that's wise." Castiel looked behind him, making Zachariah or another angel hadn't suddenly appeared.

"Well I didn't ask you for your opinion." Dean was advancing steadily closer and this was becoming much harder to resist. He needed to turn the cards around fast, make Dean angry.

"Have you forgotten what happened the last time you met?" Dean looked at Cas almost as if he could see right through him and his plan.

"No. That's the whole point. Listen, I'm gonna do whatever you schmucks want. I just need to tie up this one thing. Just five minutes, that's all I need."

"No." It felt good to finally say it. To finally deny the human of his desire for his brother. Dean was surprised, as though he'd never been denied before.

"What do you mean, no? Are you saying that I'm trapped here?" Dean wasn't getting the point.

"You can go wherever you want."

"Super, I wanna go see Sam."

"Except there."

"I wanna take a walk."

"Fine, I'll go with you."

"Alone."

"No." The tension between them was nearly palpable. Neither of them had realized just how close their bodies had gotten until Dean stepped away. Castiel felt all of the tension inside him suddenly ease. It was like the physical force of Dean so close was having a major affect on him. He had to end this conversation and get out of here, soon.

"You know what, screw this anyways. I'm outta here." Castiel turned around but didn't follow Dean. He needed the distance between them.

"Through what door?" It felt good to finally win an argument against Dean. Castiel was so used to letting his charge have his way, denying him was strangely exhilarating. And with that, Castiel left. The sooner he was away from Dean, the better.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

But despite his desperation to get away from Dean, Castiel couldn't stay away for long. That was how he found himself in the green room again, watching as Dean desperately tried to get ahold of his brother.

"You can't reach him, Dean. You're outside your coverage zone." Castiel's words were less harsh, more apologetic. The second Cas saw Dean again, his barriers started to fade once more. Each time, it was getting harder to build them back up. Soon enough, Castiel was going to be dragged back to heaven, or Dean was going to be killed. Either way, it wasn't going to be good.

"What are you gonna do to Sam?" Castiel ignored the pain in his chest.

"Nothing. He's gonna do it to himself." Castiel walked over to the other side of the room, facing Dean.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Castiel looked down suddenly, knowing he couldn't give the answer and knowing Dean still-even after the way Castiel has been treating him lately-had the instinct to trust Cas. 

"Oh, right, right. Gonna tow the company line." Dean was a few inches away from Castiel now, like he knew what effect Dean's proximity would have on him. "Why are you here, Cas?"

"We've been through much together, you and I. I just wanted to say I'm sorry it ended like this." It was the best Castiel could give Dean. The only goodbye that would be safe for them both. He highly considering not coming at all, but his heart got the better of him. Castiel could not forget the past as easily as he liked to make himself believe.

"Sorry?" Dean's face was indescribable. Castiel did not know humans could portray that kind of pain just through facial expressions. But it was only fair that Dean reached back and punched him. Castiel's head turned to the side, feeling no pain, but knowing Dean's intentions of causing him pain was pain enough. "It's Armageddon Cas, you need a bigger word than sorry." 

"Try to understand. This is long fortold. This is your-"

"Destiny?" Dean's eyes looked to be in more pain than his nearly broken hand. "Don't give me that holy crap. Destiny, God's plan, it's all a bunch of _lies_ , you poor, stupid, son of a bitch!"

Poor, stupid. Insulting his father's will.

"It's just a way for your bosses to keep me, and keep you-" his finger pointed accusingly at Castiel "-in line."

Castiel's head was swirling. He was fighting every voice that told him to ignore the human. It was human, it didn't know anything. But what if what Dean said was true?

"You know what's real? People. Families. And you're gonna watch 'em all burn?"

"What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you, I see your guilt." _For starting all of this. For ending the world. For loving your brother._ "Your anger," _towards me, for leaving you, towards Sam, for leaving you._ "Confusion." _How you feel about Sam, how you feel about me._

"In paradise, all is forgiven." _Your sins, the torture. The feelings inside your chest that you fight against every time you think of your brother._ "You'll be at peace." _No more nightmares, no more worrying._ "Even with Sam." _Even with Sam. You get to be with your brother. And you get to be at peace with your relationship with your brother._

Dean looked at Castiel accusingly. Like "how dare he mention my relationship with my brother." Castiel looked away, knowing it was crossing a line, but he needed Dean to see the opportunities waiting for him. But Dean leaned in, cocking his head to the side, drawing Castiel's eyes to him. They seemed to move as a single force as Dean lifted his head back and Castiel could do nothing but follow him with his own body.

"You can take your peace. And shove it up your lily-white ass." Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. "Cause I'll take the pain. And the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is." 

Castiel looked away. His mistake had been in mentioning their relationship. It had put Dean on the defense. 

"It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise." Dean was just doing anything he could to be defiant now. What creature would take pain over paradise? Castiel turned away, no longer able to face the intensity of the moment. Dean was pushing this too far. He was pushing everything Castiel believed in, every ounce of Castiel that had been there since before even humans were born. In the short amount of time he had known Dean, Castiel had gone through more hardships than he had in his entire being combined. 

"It's simple, Cas!" Dean yelled at his back. "No more crap about being a good soldier, there is a right and there is a wrong here and you know it."

Castiel kept his back turned. He could not look at Dean and still keep his mind with him.

"Look at me!" Dean shouted, grabbing Castiel's arm and spinning him around. "You know it!"

Castiel's breathing was heavy, and he felt light-headed. This was all too much. Dean was asking too much.

"Now, you were gonna help me once, weren't you?" Castiel turned his head again. Dean didn't understand what was at risk, Castiel couldn't risk this. "You were gonna warn me about this before they dragged you back to bible camp." 

Why did Castiel have to pick such a stubborn human to fall for?

"Help me. Now. Please." 

Castiel inhaled, trying to get some air into the lungs that felt glued shut. "What would you have me do?"

"Get me to Sam. We can stop this before it's too late." Dean was inches away and Castiel couldn't take this any longer. He couldn't fight this any longer. He gave up the crusade, finally speaking words of his own.

"I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed." Didn't Dean get it? This was a matter of living and dying.

"If there is anything worth dying for, this is it." Dean's green eyes were locked on Castiel's. Dean just asked Castiel to die for him. To die, to sacrifice his life, for a human with a lost cause. There was a high possibility the plan would fail, even if Castiel did help. Dean was asking him to risk everything.

Castiel couldn't do it. He couldn't give up on his father's plan and give away his entire life and heaven just to help a lost cause. He couldn't. If it was painful the first time he was in "bible camp," Castiel could only imagine what they'd do to him next time. It was too much. This was too much.

Castiel shook his head, his own heart breaking along with his charge's. Dean transformed, from ally and friend to a cement barrier. Now they were just both soldiers on opposite sides of a war.

"You spineless, _soulless_ son of a bitch." Castiel took the insults. Even the soulless one. Which is exactly how he felt right now.

"What do you care about dying, you're already dead. We're done." The last two words hit like a double knife.

"Dean," Castiel began. He didn't know if he could survive those two words. They were words that implied a relationship. It meant that Dean had seen their relationship as worth something at one point, if it took so much power to end it. And Castiel realized it a moment to late. Those words were already spoken. Castiel's heart was already shattered. But they came again, swiftly and just as painful.

"We're done."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You know what, fuck it. If he was gonna die soon, he might as well have one last burge-

A hand on his shoulder halted his thoughts as he was spun around swiftly and pressed up against the wall, a strong hand over his mouth. Dean's heart was thudding a hundred miles per hour as he looked into the face above him. Castiel's stunning eyes were filled with dangerous sparks, the stark opposite to the cold, watery pain Dean had seen earlier. Wow, Cas's face was really fucking close to his. Like, really really really close. 

Castiel's hand felt hot against Dean's lips, and so did the hand that was roughly pinning his shoulder to the wall. Dean's hand was grabbing onto Castiel's arm, as Cas reached down and pulled Ruby's knife out of his waistband. Wow, thoughts about Castiel's waistband. This would be really fucking hot if he had any idea what was going on in the angel brain in front of him. Dean's eyes shot down to Castiel's lips, totally involuntarily. They were just, there, and really close and oh god what was happening. Dean felt more tension in his gut than he ever had in his entire life. He was literally going to die. But he forced his brain to focus on what was happening, not what could be happening with Castiel having slammed him up against the wall (Dean had no idea how dominant Castiel could be, damnnn) and he realized Castiel had his hand over Dean's mouth to keep him quiet. Well duh. It wasn't like Castiel would have known that if the hand hadn't had been between their mouths, other things probably would ha-okay, Cas needed to know Dean would stay quiet. 

It took a bit of effort to realize this, but Dean nodded, silently agreeing to keep quiet. Castiel looked at him skeptically, but released his hand. Dean breathed out shakily, trying to get a grip on himself. The world was ending and he was having a minor spaz attack because of some sexual tension, really? But Castiel stepped backwards a step, which helped some, and Dean managed to get his lungs back under control. Castiel was running the knife across his arm, blood ribboning out. What the hell? But Dean somehow tapped into Castiel's energy and knew to move out of the way of the wall. That was odd, normally the only person he could communicate with silently was Sam. Guess Cas gets a ticket into that elite club now too.

Dean watched as Castiel drew a symbol on the wall, the same one Anna had drawn, memorizing it with each stroke of Cas's bloodied fingertips.

"Castiel!" A voice behind him made them both turn around, Castiel only for a moment before he continued drawing.

"Would you mind explaining just what the hell you're doing-" Cas slammed his hand in the center of the symbol and Zachariah disappeared in a flash of light.

Dean uncovered his face and looked over to Castiel.

"He won't be gone long." His angel's voice was back to how it had been before Illinois. Full of raw emotion. "We have to find Sam now."

And he no longer said Sam's name like it was a poison. This was really motherfucking good. Dean would love to just tackle Cas in a hug right now, but they really didn't have the time. He'd make it up to Cas later.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. But I know who does. We have to stop him, Dean. From killing Lilith." His voice was urgent as he leaned forward, no longer too scared to look Dean in the eyes. It was back to their normal staredown conversations. Which Dean had secretly missed a lot.

"But Lilith is going to break the final seal."

"Lilith _is_ the final seal. She dies, the end begins." 

Suddenly Dean was standing next to Castiel at Chuck's house, and Castiel was removing his hand from Dean's shoulder. Dean looked at Castiel as he interrogated Chuck, just still kind of in awe that Cas came back for him. It was the first person in Dean's life that had left him, and then come back on his own free will. Dean always had to go get his Dad, or go chase down Sammy. But not Cas. Castiel came for him. And it wasn't something Dean was ever going to forget.

"We're making it up as we go." Dean stared at his angel. Since when does anyone share Dean's outlook on the future? This new Cas was going to be the death of him. Suddenly everything started shaking and light flashed everywhere.

"It's the archangel. I'll hold him off. I'll hold them all off. Just stop Sam!" The last thing Dean remembers before being blasted to nowhere again was looking at Castiel's eyes and seeing a twinge of fear in them, but mostly something Dean thought he'd never see. Pride, and sacrifice. Castiel was doing this for him, he knew. Not for the billions of humans that could die. I mean, it was partially for them, but Dean was the straw that turned Castiel to his right mind. And now it was Dean's turn to change Sammy too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam could feel the dark warmth of the demon blood pulsing through his veins as he begin ripping Lilith apart. She was gasping for breath, about to go over the edge. Sam was just about to make that final push, but then his mind started playing tricks on him. 

Suddenly Sam froze, instantly stopping his deadly mind games. Above the sonorous pounding of his heart, Sam could have sworn he heard Dean's voice, calling out his name. Wait, there it was again. 

_"Sammm!!"_ It was ringing and echo-y but it sounded so real. _Sammm!!_

"Dean?" Sam asked. There was no way. Sam had heard the voicemail, he had heard what Dean had thought of him. Dean didn't love him anymore. Sam wasn't worthy of Dean even if he did. Sam was a monster, and at least the last good thing he could do was stop the apocalypse. But with his mind making him think Dean was here, that opportunity was about to slip away too. 

Dean wouldn't come for him. Dean was miles away from here. It was just Sam's mind telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

_"Sammm!!"_

That was it. Sam had to end this. He turned to Lilith and twisted into her soul with every ounce of his being. This was it. This was the end.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"He's coming," Sam whispered. Dean looked at him, his face stricken with an overwhelming number of emotions. But as the floor lit up with a column of light, both Sam and Dean did the last thing they could think to do. When all hope was beyond despair, they reached out for the last thing they had left. Each other.

Both boys grabbed for each other's jackets and arms, anything, anything to grab on to and keep in the last few moments they were alive. If they had to die tonight, they would die together, holding what was left of each other.

And with that, a great blast of light filled the room and everything went white. This was the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annddd there is a tumblr blog where you can follow and get the updates of Stumbling on your dashboard, as well as videos and gifs and pictures and edits and yay! xx
> 
> http://flybynightgirl.tumblr.com/


	23. Veritably (Sympathy for the Devil  05x01)

Chuck was fairly proud of his ability to smack his attacker. That is, until he realized who it was.

"Sam!" Sam was making a face and complaining.

"Hey, Chuck." And Dean was here too! How in the world were they alive?

"So, you're okay?"

"Well, my head hurts." Sassy sassy.

"I-I, mean, my last vision. You went like full on Vader. Your body temperature was 150, your heart rate was 200, your eyes were black." Dean turned his head towards Sam. Sam turned around, facing him.

"Your eyes went black?" Oh dear, here comes some brotherly drama.

"I didn't know." Dean stopped looking at Sam. It was still odd for Chuck to see the people he wrote about in action. He felt a little at a disadvantage though, because normally he could tell some of their thoughts too. But not now, now he just watched Dean make the faces he'd written about so many times. But Chuck knew his characters, and he knew what Dean would be thinking. Which is why he was a little hesitant to mention this next part.

"Where's Cas?" Chuck glanced over at Sam, wanting to see what "Sam's face twisted with jealousy" looked like in person. Huh, just exactly like Chuck had pictured it.

"He's dead." Dean's head cocked to the side, his expression suddenly turning deadly. Chuck quickly corrected himself. "Or gone. The archangel smoked the crap out of him."

Dean's eyes were tearing up. Wow, that was something Chuck never thought he'd witness in person. "I'm sorry."

"You're sure? I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something." Dean was going to either kill him or kill something. Might as well tell him the whole truth before his own character beats him to a bloody pulp.

"Ah, no, he like, exploded. Like a...water ballon of chunky soup." Dean still stood frozen, still looking like he was about to rip something in half. Sam actually looked sorry, pity (probably for Dean, not Cas. Or maybe for the fact that they had lost angelic assistance. Or maybe Sam was getting over his jealousy) written all over his features.

As Chuck pulled the molar out of his hair, he was just about to lose it. Just about to break down bawling because holy shit there was a tooth in his hair. But despite his brief panic attack, Chuck didn't miss Dean turning his head to the ground in agony. After all, he was a writer, and had to take full advantage of learning his characters better. Even when the apocalypse started and _there was a tooth in his hair_.

"This has been a really stressful day." Chuck whimpered, trying not to cry. They weren't crying after all.

"Cas, you stupid bastard." A tear had formed at the corner of Dean's right eye and it was threatening to fall. Okay, so Dean was crying. But for different reasons, that was because he lost somebody he loved.

"Stupid? He was trying to help us." Sam turned his head, only looking Dean in the eyes for a moment before looking down. He didn't want his ass kicked for noticing Dean's tears either, apparently. 

"Yeah, exactly." Dean glared at Sam, like he was blaming Sam for Castiel's death. Ouch, their relationship had more turbulence right now than Chuck had ever written. He didn't think he'd be able to capture all of the emotions with words though. It was just too intense.

"Oh crap," Chuck interrupted Dean and Sam. There were whispers of feathers swirling all around in Chuck's mind. "I can feel them."

"Thought we'd find you here." That was his least favorite angel so far. "Playtime's over Dean."

Oh Zachariah was in so much shit right now. Dean had just found out his angel was dead, and Zachariah was one of the reasons. This was going to end very badly for him. Dean's face was stone cold as a rock, and he stood with his legs slightly apart and his hands at his sides, powerfully glaring down the intruder.

"You're upset," Zachariah said, sounding genuinely confused. Wow, he knew nothing for an angel.

"Yeah. A little." Chuck made a mental note to write that line down. Dean never admitted to being upset. Ever. And now he was being sarcastic and saying _a little_ like, no shit I'm upset. He'd have to find a way to pinpoint the honesty and sarcasm behind that line. That was going to be a challenge.

Zachariah kept talking, trying to guilt trip Dean. 

"You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't." Dean looked down. Chuck could picture the searching expression, as Dean realized that this was almost as much his fault as it was Sam's.

It took Zachariah a good three minutes before he noticed the blood dripping from Dean's hand. Zach could never be a writer, he was veritably unobservant. But by the time he realized what it could mean, Dean had already slammed his cut hand against the door and filled the room with white light.

"Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch." That was truly heart-melting. Chuck didn't have the right words for Dean's expression as he looked up at the sky. 

"This sucks ass." Sam and Dean both looked to Chuck in silent agreement. 

As they said their goodbyes and left, Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. He actually thought that Dean might kill him at one point in their meeting today, for having to be the one to bear bad news. It was heartbreaking. But now Chuck had a shit ton of stuff he had to write down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean's head was still swirling from the idea of being "the vessel" "Michael's vessel" and from the stage four stomach cancer that felt like it was from hell, and the fact that Sammy was withering on the floor without his lungs, all of it, when somehow this meeting got even crazier. Dean couldn't see much past the black spots in front of his eyes, but he thought that was a trenchcoat that was over there kicking some angel ass. Maybe it was Dean's mind finally losing it, picturing Cas when Cas was dead. He wasn't sure, but it did seem that something was shooting white light all over the place.

Once all the angels except Zachariah were dead, Castiel stepped into clear view, a bloodied knife in his hand. And for the third time, Dean couldn't get up and hug Cas, because, well, he couldn't get up. But Castiel was _alive_. Although Dean wasn't sure that Dean would be alive in a few more minutes.

Castiel's voice was deep and threatening, and Dean was very very glad that Cas was on their side right now, because if he wasn't, then holy shit, Dean would be terrified. Suddenly Zachariah was gone, and Dean looked over to Sam, making sure he was alright. After a quick evaluation that Sam was fine, or at least as fine as he was, Dean looked back to Cas.

"You two need to be more careful." Castiel was standing oddly far away. That could be because Sam was standing inches away from Dean, though.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought."

"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you." Cas reached out to both Sam and Dean, touching their chests. His hand was warm, although not quite as warm as it was when Cas pinned him to that wall. But this time it wasn't arousal that followed the touch, it was an epic pain, white hot and searing in his ribs. God, that wasn't much better than stomach cancer. Dean doubled over slightly, which could have been awkward with Sam inches behind him, but their bodies doubled over in sync and neither ran in to the other.

"What the hell was that?'

"Enokian Sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation." Castiel turned and resumed a position at a normal-people-conversation length. "Including Lucifer."

"What, did you just brand us with it?" If Dean didn't like Cas a lot, he probably would've punched him for the pain. Except punching Cas hurts almost as bad as this, anyways.

"No. I carved it into your ribs." Dean just kept his hand on his ribs, breathing heavily still from the pain.

"Hey Cas, were you really dead?" At least Sam and Cas were on speaking terms. That made everything much easier.

"Yes."

"Then how are you back?" Dean looked Castiel up and down. It looked to be 100% Cas. But there was always some snag that came with coming back from the dead.

Castiel just looked down, before disappearing all together again. Great. At least he was alive though, right?

They both looked a round for a moment, as was the habit when angels just randomly vanished. Then Dean turned to Sam, placing a tentative hand to Sam's ribcage. 

"You alright?" Sam winced a little at the touch but nodded. Dean removed his hand, nodding.

"Alright then, let's get out of here."


	24. Inanition (Good God, Y'all  05x02)

"It's a pipe-dream Cas." Although Castiel probably wouldn't understand that reference at all. But it didn't matter, suddenly Castiel's face was inches away from Dean's. Like, even closer than normal. Hell, this was "I'm-about-to-makeout-with-you" distance.

"I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted, I've rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you." Dean tried to keep his face straight. Which was hard when Castiel's wording was making Dean feel like there was a hidden meaning behind those words. It sounded almost like a confession of some sort. "And you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world."

Sam looked down guiltily, although Dean was surprised Sam hadn't looked down earlier, what with Cas's lips five inches from his. But Dean could feel his temper rising. People really needed to stop bringing up Sam's "evil deed" cause it was getting really old. 

"And I lost everything. For nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself." Dean looked away guiltily. Castiel had a point. A very valid one unfortunately.

Dean was definitely not expecting Castiel to turn to him after his "I know, _you_ don't." Dean just blinked, raising his eyebrows. What made Castiel think that Dean had an amulet with him? Especially the god-amulet?

Castiel's eyes fell to Dean's chest, and Dean looked down. There was nothing there, what the hell? Wait, unless-

"What, this?"

"May I borrow it?"

"No!" 

"Dean," Castiel glared Dean down. "Give it to me."

Dean mouthed an invisible word, suddenly at lost of what to say. Castiel's scary glare hadn't let up, though, and Dean had a feeling that Cas would rip the damn thing from his neck if he said no again. And Dean wasn't exactly the crafty type that knew how to fix a necklace.

Dean looked down at the amulet again, looking to the side and debating. Why the fuck did it have to always be him? This necklace was goddamn important to him. It was like always having Sam there with him. His memory flashed back to that Christmas, rolling the cold brass between his fingers. And the first time he'd done it with a girl, the necklace dangling between them. To the dots of blood that dripped out of Dean's hand the morning after Sam left for Stanford, the cuts in his hand from squeezing the amulet so tightly in the night that the horns punctured into his skin. To when that shapeshifter stole it temporarily, and when he crawled out of his grave and found it wasn't wrapped around his neck. And when Sam reached under his shirt collar and pulled it off, having worn it while Dean was dead. _You probably want this back_ , how Dean had finally felt complete again when the heavy brass thudded against his chest. How was he supposed to just stop wearing it all of a sudden?

But he felt kind of like a girl, it was a piece of jewelry for crying out loud. Besides, this was Cas asking, not some stranger. If he had to pick anyone to borrow it besides Sam, it'd be Castiel that he'd trust. So he reluctantly lifted it off his chest.

"Alright, I guess." Dean took it off, holding it in his hand for a moment. He looked down at the necklace and situated it right, dangling from the thread. Castiel reached for it, but Dean held it up higher.

"Don't. Lose it." It was a threat, but a threat was definitely called for right now. Castiel reached out and took it, a little hesitant like Dean might punch him again any moment. Not a bad read on the situation, all in all.

"Oh great, now I feel naked." Dean rolled his shoulders and didn't look back at Sam. He wasn't sure what his brother would think of him giving away his necklace, but he figured Sam would understand. Sam was into this whole god thing anyways.

"I'll be in touch." Dean nodded and rolled his eyes, not surprised as Castiel flapped off. Guy should really learn to walk though.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a sort of inanition in the Impala the second Dean opened the door. He'd been sitting at that picnic table, unable to move for the past ten minutes. Sam was long gone, the dusty road he disappeared on still showing no signs of a run-back return. Dean had stayed, staring, just hoping that Sam would turn around and come pulling in, get out of his car and attack Dean in a messy hug. Dean just wanted to nose his face into Sam's hair and hold him until all of these complications went away. But no dust came kicking back on that road, and Dean was eventually faced with the facts. Sam was gone.

So he trudged his way to baby, pulling open the door and sliding inside. He didn't let himself turn his head over to the passenger seat. This didn't have to be any harder than it already was. Dean plugged the key in and started the ignition. Baby roared to life and Dean reached over to the radio, turning the volume knob all the way up. 

He no longer needed to keep 'tallica as quiet background music, since there would be no random Sam revelations interrupting this car ride. And there wouldn't be any listening to Sam's quiet breathing as he slept in the passenger seat. No sounds of shuffling or random conversations. No, "Hey, Dean"s either. Just Dean and his baby and the road now. And James Hetfield.

And Dean will swear until the next time he dies, and the time after that too, that there were not tears in his eyes as "Sad but True" started playing. Because Dean didn't cry. He didn't need Sam. He'd hunted alone before, and damn right he could do it again.


	25. Remnants (Free to Be You and Me  05x03)

Dean buckled in half, his stomach clenching as he suddenly couldn't breathe. A muffled sound escaped his throat as he closed his eyes against upcoming tears. Good lord, he hadn't laughed this hard in years. It was almost as that point that he was silent-laughing he was laughing so hard. As if Chastity's reaction wasn't great enough, the look on Castiel's face, the look that was _still_ on Cas's face, was enough to send Dean to an early grave. Again.

"What's so funny?" Castiel bent down to try to catch Dean's eye. Dean straightened up, clapping his hands together. Cas still didn't get it. God, this was good.

Dean laughed again, clapping a hand on Castiel's shoulder. Dean had only had one beer, but you know what, what the hell, he might as well.

"Ah, nothing," Dean threw his arm around Cas's shoulders. He'd never actually really done this since high school. Dean wasn't the dating type, so he never really walked around with his arm wrapped around someone. Especially a guy. Dean wasn't the gay type at all (Sam didn't count) but being with Cas didn't feel _gay_ , it just felt. Actually, Dean didn't have words yet for the feeling. He'd have to think about that. But putting your arm around someone wasn't as awkward as it always looked in movies. Castiel fit quite nicely into Dean's arm, and Dean began walking them towards the car.

Castiel was smiling despite the fact that he didn't see the humor in the joke. Which meant he was smiling because Dean's arm was around him. Which made Dean smile even wider. 

"It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard." Castiel's face was turned to face his, and their lips were dangerously close. Again. Dean was trying not to think about that though. He didn't want to ruin how perfect this moment was right now. Both had stupid grins on their faces like they had just won the lottery or something. 

Dean lead Castiel to the other side of his body, keeping his hand on Cas's shoulder until the last possible moment. Castiel seemed to catch the drift that he was riding shotgun. Which was good, because Castiel didn't get a lot of drifts.

"It's been more than a long time. Years." Dean leaned against Baby for a moment, his face losing it's expression of pure joy as he thought back to the last time he'd laughed like that. It was probably in Texas, one of the first hunts since Sam had been back. They were hunting some haunted house guy or something, but there had been a prank war. Man, that prank war had been absolutely fantastic. But Dean was snapped back into reality by Castiel clearing his throat.

"Um, Dean, the car is locked." Cas still had the remnants of a smile on his face as Dean turned to him. Dean shook his head, clearing away the thought of Sam laughing at the beer bottle glued to Dean's hand. 

"Uh, yeah. Well, about that. I have to unlock it from the driver side, but I was going to come get your door for you." Dean smiled with one side of his mouth, tilting his head before breaking eye contact and reaching down to unlock the passenger door. Castiel watched as Dean closed his own door and walked around the front of the car to Castiel's door, swinging it wide. Castiel stepped out of the way, looking at Dean curiously.

"What is the purpose of that?" Castiel seemed to genuinely not know. His cluelessness wasn't quite as annoying as Dean pretended most of the time. It was actually pretty adorable.

"Well," Dean stepped a bit closer to Castiel. They were dangerously close now. "It's something a guy does to be chivalrous. You know, impress somebody." 

Dean emphasized the words "impress somebody" with a little tilt of his head towards Castiel. Cas cocked his head a little, looking at Dean like he was trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. All of this tension, goodness. You know what, fuck it. Dean had enough with this game of cat and mouse. He was going for it.

Dean brought his hand up to Cas's face, keeping the other one still at his side, so as to not freak out Cas or make this more intense than it needed to be. He leaned forward slow enough that Castiel could see it coming, but not too slow that Cas could register and back out of this. Dean tilted his head and brought his mouth to Cas's, their lips meeting with what felt like warm sparks. Cas's lips were rougher than Dean was used to, but definitely not unpleasant. Dean pressed forward a little bit, cupping his hand against Cas's cheek. Cas's lips were parted slightly, probably out of surprise, but hey, Dean was going to take advantage of it. Dean moved his mouth against Cas's, their lips sliding together. God, Cas was warm. Like, freakishly warm. Maybe it was some weird angel thing. His hands had been warm too, but his mouth definitely wins the warm competition. It was even bordering on hot.

Suddenly Dean's lips felt very very cold as he registered an absence of Castiel. Well then. Dean opened his eyes and moved his hand that was still floating in mid air down to his side. He turned around, figuring Cas would be behind him. Yep. Castiel was sitting in shotgun of the Impala, the door closed and the window rolled down. Dean sauntered over the three steps, putting his hands on the door and leaning down. He chewed his lip as he watched Cas's face, wearing basically the same expression he had worn when Chastity had asked him his name. Wide eyed and stiff, staring straight forward.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. He was going to let Cas speak before he finished his question. Castiel turned his head halfway towards Dean, still not looking at Dean's face.

"Wh...Why did you do that?" Dean smirked, leaning back on his heels. 

"Well, you see, humans tend to do things like that to express emotion? You know, that thing you pretend not to have?" Cas looked up at Dean. He was still kind of wide-eyed, like being in epic shock. Dean was torn between being flattered and offended. He knew he could be an overwhelmingly good kisser, but he wasn't quite sure if that was why Cas was freaking out.

"I do not...pretend anything." Dean leaned forward again, putting just a few inches between his face and Cas's. Not as close as kissing distance, but enough to hear the frantic beating in Castiel's chest. 

"Oh yeah? Prove it." Cas's eyes flitted down to Dean's lips, caught there for a moment before he looked back up at Dean's eyes. Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it instead and turned his head away from Dean. Cas looked down at the hands in his lap, speaking quietly.

"I can't replace your brother, Dean." The words were low and not at all belonging in the moment. Damn, that took a turn for the downslide way quickly. Dean stepped away from the car and sighed, throwing up a hand in defeat.

"Cas, you're not...okay, we have to talk about this, don't we." Dean trudged his way over to the driver's side, closing the car door behind him and turning in his seat to face Cas. The steering wheel was pressed up against his hip (just like when Sam pulls you into a spontaneous kiss after a hunt and crushes your left hip into the steering wheel, halfway pulling you into his lap) and Dean closed his eyes for a moment, clearing his mind of memories. When he opened them again, Castiel was looking at him. Dean looked up guiltily for a moment before looking at his hands.

"I'm not going to pretend I don't know what you're talking about, there's not really a point. I know you know about Sam and my, uh, our...relationship with each other," Dean was stumbling all over the place. This was hard to say out loud and pinpoint. "And our, uh. This, this thing, that we have between us-"

"Love, Dean."

"What?" Castiel turned to Dean, his face fifty shades of serious.

"Love. The word you're looking for." Dean kind of stared at Cas for a moment. That was actually not the word Dean had been planning on using. Well, he didn't really have a word he was planning on using, just pretty much anything but that one. But alright, it was just a word anyways, right?

"Okay. Then, uh, this love we have, it's really complicated. I don't expect you to understand how difficult it is between us. And not just the whole obvious "we're brothers" thing, because we kind of found a way to ignore that? Mostly anyways. It's more than that, it's the life that we live, and the stuff we do to each other and for each other. It just, causes a lot of problems. Always looking out for Sam puts a lot of stress in my life, stress that I don't want. Not to mention how painful it can be. I have to watch him get hurt, or go through demon-junkie-denial, or watch him lie to me. He's left me and dumped me and he hasn't come back once. It's always me who goes and gets him. It...it hurts."

Castiel was listening and watching Dean's face intently. Dean was not exactly comfortable talking about any of this, and he kept on having to swallow down tears that were threatening to fall. Dean turned away from Cas, putting his hands on the steering wheel absent-mindedly. 

"But that's not the point. The point is, Cas, when I'm with you I don't feel that pain." Dean chanced a glance over at Cas's face. He still sat expressionless. Great, this was going to be easy. He felt like he was confessing to a wall. 

"You've been there for me when Sam wasn't. But I'm not trying to replace him with you. No one could ever really replace Sam, no offense, and that's not why I, you know, uh. Kissed you. That's about something else entirely. So don't think I suddenly just jumped on you because I was lonely or looking for a replacement. It's not like that. I, I don't know how much Sam is going to be in my life now, but no matter whether we never see each other again or if we end up holdin hands on the street for the rest of our lives, I still want you to be a part of my life. I know I can't exactly, uh, be in a...relationship? with you both, but that's not always what it's about either. It's not just physical attraction here. Same with me and Sam. It's beyond that, and kind of hard to explain, so...yeah."

Dean looked over at Cas now. Cas's face looked fairly relieved. Dean had never found himself so grateful for a facial expression. 

"Dean, are you sure?"

"About what?"

"About all of it. What you just said. I want to believe you, it's just. The timing is impeccable and I'm not sure if that was accidental, or..." Cas did have a point. Dean had never made a move on Cas til now, when Sam was gone. But just because Dean didn't act til now didn't mean now was the first time he felt anything. Dean sighed. He was going to have to tell Castiel everything, wasn't he?

"No, Cas, I've felt this way for a little while. Kind of. I don't know, I guess I've been denying it too, because of everything with Sam and the whole apocalypse shit and the small factor that you didn't have emotions until like a week ago. So I thought it was kind of a lost cause. But there's always been...something...there. I still don't know exactly what it is, and I'm gonna sound like a girl saying this, but I get this odd kind of feeling, like, I guess, fluttering? In my chest. The first time I got it was back in that warehouse, that first time I met you. I had no idea what was happening, so I put it off as some kind of angel-mojo thing. But I never got it with the other angels, not even Anna. So I had to rule out that explanation. Then, in Illinois, when you left me for the whole "stone-cold-soldier" thing, it broke me more than it should've. I guess that's when I started kind of worrying about it. It was really difficult when you weren't you, because I needed you and I was kind of, falling for you. And you hated me."

Castiel met Dean's eyes when he looked up.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Dean nodded and swallowed, looking back down so he could finish his story. He didn't want to make this even more emotional than it already was.

"And then when you pinned me up against that wall, when you'd turned good, my heart was racing. I don't know if you just thought it was the whole surprise or apocalypse thing, but it wasn't like that. And my chest kept doing the fluttery thing too. I think if your hand hadn't been over my mouth...I think I probably would've kissed you then. Well maybe not with the whole Sam dying thing happening right then, but it still crossed my mind. So, this isn't exactly a new feeling. It's just the first time I've actually had the opportunity to act on it. Does that make sense?"

Dean turned his body back to face Castiel. Cas had gone back to his wide-eyed expression, his "den of iniquity" expression, except minus the terrified part. Well, he looked a little bit scared, but mostly just surprised. With a little bit of happiness thrown in.

"You, uh. Why didn't you tell me this before?" 

"When did I have the time? Besides, I was so caught up in this whole demon mess that my mind was too clouded with that to properly sit down and analyze anything." Cas's expression toned down a bit, the shock wearing off as he realized the gravity of Dean's words.

Dean waited a bit, but Cas didn't say anything, he just had his head tilted to the side as he looked in Dean's eyes. That was still going to take a little bit more getting used to. It didn't bother Dean anymore, it hadn't for a while, but it still caught him kind of off guard.

"I'm glad you told me this Dean. I didn't think there would be a possibility for you ever feeling that way about me. I guess I have been "pretending" about my emotions. You mean a lot to me, more than anyone ever has before. And Dean, I would have no problem with telling you my story as well, but we do still have an archangel to trap." Oh shit. Yeah. Dean looked down at his watch.

"Yeah, we can save the girly stuff for later. But, one last thing, Cas."

"Anything, Dean."

"Are you, uh, are you glad I kissed you?"

"Dean, I am happier than I have ever been. So yes. Very."

Dean cocked his head and smiled sideways, turning back to the windshield and starting up baby's engine. Today was turning out to be a fantastic day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

From the moment Cas had shown up in Dean's motel room a little less than a week ago, Dean couldn't get these thoughts out of his head. And it had literally been the moment Cas had shown up, too. Dean had jumped at the angel's surprise entrance, then turned around to face him. And had been right there, his entire body inches away from Dean. 

That was when Dean's heartbeat took off, his eyes flicking down to Cas's lips. Cas just stared back, watching Dean attempt to swallow the urge to close the gaps between their mouths. _Cas, what did I say about personal space._ That had gotten Dean a few more inches if breathing room. But then his heart had been pounding and he got scared, snapping at Cas as Cas asked him questions. When he agreed to go along with the angel though, Dean started loosening up. 

Before they interviewed the police station, Dean had stopped Cas, fixing his tie and basically just using any excuse he could to touch the angel, stand close, just inches from Cas's face again. Then, the strip club had happened, and Dean had finally gotten the chance, finally given into the urge that had been itching away at him forever. He'd kissed Cas. 

It had been awesome, and Dean only felt a little guilty about Sam. He and Sam weren't exclusive, obviously, and Sam had been fucking Ruby after all, so Dean could do whatever his heart desired. And for now, that was Cas. 

After Raphael had been trapped, and left for dead, Dean and Cas ended up crashing in a motel room. Well, more like Dean had. Dean had been so tired, he'd forgotten Cas didn't sleep. Dean just plopped on a bed and murmured goodnight, assuming Cas would do the same. 

But now, as he woke up, Cas was perched on the edge of the other bed, watching Dean. Dean started, still slightly disoriented as he mumbled a complaint about that still being creepy. Yeah, tonight he would insist on Cas finding something else to do instead of watching him sleep. But Cas smiled lightly to himself, standing up. 

"What would you like to eat for breakfast?" Cas asked. Dean had sat up, and was currently running a hand over his face. He looked up at Castiel, who still had that content smile on his face. 

"Bacon. Bacon and coffee." Dean swung his legs off the bed, about to suggest going to a diner when he heard the flutter of wings and Cas disappeared. Looks like it would be a breakfast in bed day then. Dean took advantage of Cas's temporary absence, using the bathroom and brushing his teeth. By the time he walked back into the bedroom, Cas had a bag and a cup, and was standing awkwardly by the door. He opened his mouth to speak and Dean pointed to Cas's bed, still neatly made an untouched. 

"Climb on up." Cas looked at him confusedly, so Dean crossed the room over to Cas and took the coffee from his hand. Then he entwined their free hands and pulled Cas to the bed, letting go so they could both sit down. Dean scooted to the center top of the bed, sitting crisscross applesauce and patting the comforter in front of him. Castiel followed suit, sitting across from Dean and placing the bag of food in the center. 

Dean smiled at Cas and reached inside the bag, holding out a piece of bacon for him. Castiel took it and looked at it curiously.

"I've never had bacon before." Dean's jaw dropped. 

"Man, you've never lived before."

"Well, technically angels are celestial beings and don't fall exactly into the category of-"

"Cas."

Castiel looked up, his sparkling blue eyes catching the sun. Dean had been about to make some remark to just eat the damn bacon already when suddenly Dean was leaning forward, his eyes locked on those crystal blues up until the moment they slid shut, his head tilting to the side as his lips meet softly with Castiel's. 

Castiel's lips were plush and warm, and it was all Dean could do not to open up his mouth and push Cas down onto the sheets. But he kept the kiss sweet and simple, drawing back reluctantly after a few glorious moments. 

Cas's eyes popped open at the loss of contact, his pupils wide and the celestial blue just a thin ring. Dean's mouth curled up in a side smile and he leaned back, gently taking the bacon from Cas's fingertips. 

"Open up." Cas licked his lips and obediently opened his mouth. Dean awkwardly ripped a piece off the bacon and guided it into Cas's mouth. Cas closed and chewed, his eyes and entire face lighting up with joy. 

"I know right? Freaking awesome." Dean popped the other half of the bacon in his mouth, humming softly at the taste. It was awesome. Today was awesome. Or at least, it was going to be. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They spent the day talking and driving around. After breakfast, Dean insisted on a pie run. He drove them to the nearest convenient store, making Cas wait in the car as he speed walked to the other side to open Cas's door for him. 

"I only have bad memories of these places," Cas said, eyeing the convenience store warily. 

"Well then, we'll just have to make some good ones." Dean slung his arm around Cas's shoulders again, walking across the parking lot that way. Then it was hold open the door for Cas, and they were inside.

Dean pulled Cas by his wrist into the closest nearby aisle, swinging Cas to face him and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

"There. First good memory." Cas blinked a few times before a smile erupted on his face. Dean smiled back and bumped his shoulder against Cas's.

They walked from aisle to aisle, Dean pointing out things someone should never buy, and things that were absolutely so good you simply had to get them all the time. Cas seemed to reevaluate everything in the store's worth according to how it was seen in Dean's eyes. Dean would occasionally touch Cas's arm before he pointed to something, and once, put an arm around Castiel's waist to guide him out of the way of running into the slush ice machine. 

Eventually, they made it to the pies, and Dean spent ten minutes explaining the different qualities of each. Eventually, they settled on an apple pie, and bought a pack of forks too. Castiel thanked the clerk, and proceeded to be Cas and ask the man if he liked his job. 

Dean stood patiently as the man explained to Cas that it kept him from being so lonely. Seeing all the people every day made him forget his girl had kicked him out. This seemed to make sense to Cas, so he nodded and thanked the man, turning back to Dean. Dean lead them out of the store, back to the car. 

"Not so bad, right?" Dean looked over at Cas from the corner of his eye. Cas's eyes were squinched against the sun, but there were traces of a smile on his face. 

"I quite like convinence stores now."

"Good. That makes two of us."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They ate the pie in a gorgeous park Dean found about half hour away from the motel. Neither of them really noticed how gorgeous the park was. 

Back at the motel, Dean made it his responsibility to show Cas half of the movies in existence Cas had missed. They only made it through five by the time it was three in the morning, and twice as many beers. Dean was actually verging on drunk, and he kept giggling as their fifth movie neared it's end. Castiel looked at him from the corner of his eye, his mouth twitching up in a smile. 

Somewhere after the seventh beer, Cas had thrown his arm around Dean's shoulders and Dean had curled up into the angel's side, one hand curled around one of the lapels of Castiel's trench coat. He'd been playing with the blue tie earlier, running his fingers up and down the silk. Castiel hadn't spoken much, but then again, Castiel didn't say much anyways. He'd ask things throughout the movies, clarifying or commenting every now and then. But Dean liked the comfortable silence, liked just listening to the rise and fall of Castiel's chest. Dean didn't really know whether or not Cas would breathe, being an angel an all, and maybe he was faking it, but either way Dean was quite comfortable. 

Once the movie was over, they both sat in silence for a while. Dean opened his mouth to sleepily say something when he registered last second his sentence was about to start with _Sammy._ Dean's half closed eyes shot open. Sam. Dammit Sam was gone. Being with Castiel didn't fill the gaping hole in Dean's chest, although it had plastered over enough that Dean had forgotten about it for a while. 

Dean's brain was still fuzzy, but he knew enough to stop himself from doing something incredibly stupid. He was fairly sure he did anyways. Although Castiel was so very warm. And Dean did hate sleeping alone. But, still. He had to draw a line somewhere. 

"Cas?" Dean's voice was gravely and his "s" sounded kind of funny, but it worked whatever. 

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel's hand was carding through his hair and Dean pushed up into it, making a soft sigh. The sound was so weak, it sounded girly even to Dean's fogged ears. Dean blinked a few times, contemplating the word "girly" in his head for a minute before he remembered he was sposed to be having a conversation with Cas.

"I hate ta kick you out, man, but when I go ta sleep can you bleep out an let me sleep alone? It's not that I don trust you, it's just that I'm a little, uh, tipsy an I don't trust me ta not do. Uh. Do stuff. Plus Imma be quite hungover. So."

That and Sam. Dean could get over kissing other people, even hooking up with some waitress, but when it was Cas? Cas meant something to Dean, and that would just. Not be right. And when Dean's vision was as blurry at the edges as it was right now that wasn't fair to anyone. So. It was kick out the angel. 

"Whatever you want, Dean." Then Dean was kissing Cas goodbye at the door, making promises to meet him in the morning. Cas said something about holding him to that promise, and they had an appointment now, Dean wasn't going to break it. Dean mumbled something vaugley audible in agreement, then collapsed on his bed. He had no idea it was only to be woken up in about fifty minutes.


	26. Epitomized (The End  05x04)

"Damn it, Cas, I need to sleep." Sam sat in shocked silence for a moment before swallowing hard.

"Dean, it's me." Dean's voice wasn't at all gravely like he'd woken up, so he probably hadn't been asleep for longer than an hour. And based on his tone of voice and instantly assuming it was Cas, Dean had to have either been with or talking to Castiel an hour ago. So roughly three in the morning. Sam had been gone for what, a week? And Dean was already on late-night terms with his angel. Sam had tried not to get jealous, but that was kind of hard when Dean just said that.

"Sam?" There was a moment of silence where Sam considered just hanging up. What did Dean care anyways? "It's a quarter past four."

"This is important." If it wasn't, Sam wouldn't have called. He was already regretting it a little, but he wouldn't be if the call hadn't started out with the feeling like he just got cheated on.

But Sam explained the story to Dean anyways. He wasn't going to let Castiel come between them, especially not between their work. This was business related, so technically Cas wasn't a threat. Sam just needed to chill.

"Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh Sammy?" The Sammy at the end hit home. It took all of Sam's control not to start tearing up.

"So that's it, that's your response?" Dean sounded like he didn't care. Dean was a lot of things, but uncaring was never one of them.

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't know, a little panic maybe?" You actually caring about me maybe?

"I guess I'm numb to the Earth's shattering revelations at this point."

"What are we gonna do about it?" It was getting harder to not get emotional.

"What do you wanna do about it?" Dean had taken the "we" out. Maybe it wasn't on purpose.

"I want back in, for starters." Dean didn't take to that idea very well. He fought back, trying to convince Sam out of this. Why was he trying to convince Sam out of this?

"What, we're just gonna jump back in and be the dynamic duo again?" Yes. Sam wanted nothing more than to be back with his other half. To go back to hunting and sharing a motel room and pulling each other down under the sheets for warmth when things got rough. He couldn't live this life alone. Without Dean, everything felt empty and cold.

But the words that Dean was saying were making Sam feel empty and cold again. Worse. It felt like razorblades ripping across his chest, and his breathing got faster automatically with each stab of a word. All of this talk of separating, for good. Sam couldn't do this, he couldn't handle being away from Dean for much longer. He already felt like he was getting ripped apart. But then the next words came. The words that would haunt Sam for a very long time.

"Not together. We're not stronger when we're together." That wasn't true. What happened to all of the times they saved each other's asses? They couldn't do this without each other. Tears started rolling as Sam thought back, years ago, before all of this was crazy. When it was Sam saying goodbye, and Dean's last argument before driving away.

_Hey Sam._

_Yeah Dean?_

_We made one hell of a team back there._

"Sam. I think we're weaker." This couldn't be happening. "Because whatever we have between us, _love_ , family, whatever it is, they are always going to use it against us."

It was the first time Dean had ever called it that. The first time Dean had said love. And it was when he was leaving. No, it wasn't supposed to be like this. The first time Dean said it should have been face to face, and it shouldn't have been like the word was poisonous. Like their love was bad. Wrong.

"And you know that." The last words were whispered. "We're better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing if we just go our own ways."

"Dean don't do this." Sam couldn't take it. Sam couldn't handle a breakup on top of the apocalypse and everything. Dean was silent for a moment, and Sam held on to the last hope that Dean would take it all back, tell Sam to come back and come home, home to Dean's arms. That was where Sam belonged.

 

"Goodbye Sam." The phone clicked shut and Sam sat in shock for a moment. He let the phone clatter to the car floor, staring blankly ahead. Dean had just said goodbye for good. And Sam never even got the chance to tell Dean the real reason that he called. He was going to tell Dean that he loved him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So this whole thing was weird, but Dean had handled a lot of weird shit in his life. Especially now that the world was ending. He was telling the younger version of himself about the virus, packing up his guns for the mission. That was when young Dean decided to make the stupidest mistake he could've. 

"Where's Sam?" 2014 Dean froze. His eyes turned deadly as he fought the urge to pick up the gun he had just set down and lay a triangle of bullets to the intruder's chest. No one had said that word in years. The last man that had said it, some old hunter with too many question, well, let's just say he didn't see the light of day again. But there it was: spoken from his own mouth, the way he heard it in his head. Sharp and intruding and terrifying.

Dean looked over at the younger version of himself, wanting to smack that damned hope right out of his eyes. Young Dean still had this brightness in him that Dean knew exactly where he got it from. Young Dean still had the other half of his soul. This was from before Dean could ever imagine not having Sam in his life. Dean used to think he couldn't live without Sam. And he was right, too.

Dean sucked in a breath and tried to ignore the fact that his eyes were already watering. He was a soldier. Dean hadn't cried in years, and now one simple word was about to send him over the edge. But he rolled his shoulders, getting a grip on himself.

"Heavyweight showdown in Detriot. From what I understand, Sam didn't make it." Dean's eyes were hostile and terrifying, he knew. The younger version of himself sat in shock for a moment before he tilted his head with recognition. Now both of their eyes had water in the edges.

"You weren't with him?" Ha! Back in the good old days, where Dean thought there'd never be a day he wasn't with his brother. Young Dean seemed generally confused and upset that Dean hadn't been with Sam. Well, bully for him, that's not how this play of events turned out.

"No." Young Dean shifted his eyes away. He looked broken, like he'd been split in half. Dean knew that look. He felt it every day of his life. "No. Me and Sam, we haven't talked in, hell, five years."

Young Dean's eyes were all over the place as this sunk in. It was interesting to watch this play out, as ironically horrible as it was. The younger, hopeful version of himself having all of his dreams crushed. Yep. Dean knew the feeling.

"We never tried to find him?" Sam was young Dean's whole world, still. Wasn't he?

"We had other people to worry about."

"Other people? Since when do "other people" come before Sam?" The words were more broken sounding than accusing. Dean stepped around the table, slowly advancing to the younger version of himself before crouching down in front of him. Young Dean needed to see his eyes when he said this.

"Since when you were so caught up in saying no to Michael, that you lost the greatest thing you had. You may not know it yet, I don't remember when I exactly realized this, but you're in love with Sam, Dean. You have been for a very long time."

Young Dean's eyes widened as he stared at Dean. His lips parted slightly as he subconsciously shook his head slightly.

"No man, I mean, Sam and I are close, and we've done some stuff, but we're brothers, it's not-"

"Dean. Listen to me. I know how we are, too stubborn to listen to anyone, but this is you telling you this. You love Sam. We loved Sam. And we realized it a day to late. And you know what? We haven't stopped thinking of it since." Dean rose to his feet, using his powerful position to emphasize his next words.

"I've spent every waking moment, and even more nightmares, thinking of Sam. You don't know what it's like to live without your brother. To live without the other half of your soul. And you know what? It's not living at all."

Young Dean sat in absolute silence, swallowing hard and breathing shallowly. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack or start bawling or something. Although young Dean could never imagine the kind of pain Dean had gone through. And it was all just words to him. He'd probably think he'd have a chance to stop it. Because for 2009 Dean, it hadn't happened yet. Oh, the young soft version of himself. Before he knew the truth. The cold, hard, unforgiving truth. It'd all come in good time. Dean picked up his bag, headed for the door. As lovely as it was to sit around and chat with the ghost of his past, he had work to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean didn't feel like having to explain the plan to past Dean in the first place, but his reactions weren't making this any more pleasant.

"You mean you're gonna feed your friends into a meat grinder? Cas too?" Oh how cute. Past Dean was at that point where he considered Cas more than a friend. Dean wondered how long that would last before it turned into disaster. Dean remembered all too clearly wanting to run to Castiel when he'd lost Sam, and watching Cas slip away too. But it wasn't like losing Sam. Dean had to watch his angel every day, watch him turn human and turn to despair. Cas was just another thing on the long list of things Dean should've done differently. If Dean hadn't rejected Castiel, hadn't turned his back on the world, than things could've been different maybe. But with Sam gone, so was Dean's judgement. He'd done this to his brother, he didn't deserve to be loved. If Sam wasn't happy, Dean had no right to be. So he let Castiel and him grow apart romantically, both of them turning away from the idea of being together. Oh, past Dean had so much to look forward to.

"You wanna use their deaths as a diversion." Dean looked away. Young Dean didn't understand, Dean didn't need to explain himself. This was how it had to be. "Ah man, something is broken in you."

Dean looked up at that. Yeah, something was broken. His motherfucking soul. And his heart. And his mind. And his will. Everything was broken. Didn't Dean get it? Dean was _nothing_ but a soldier without Sam. Nothing.

And it was his own fault for destroying himself too. That's why it felt fucking great to have an excuse to slug the past version of himself in the face. Dean had been longing to do it since the moment he'd seen the intruder in his Impala. Although that was just because he'd been touching the Impala. Baby may be dead, but she was still his. Dean supposed some things never did change.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Castiel wasn't sure how he'd managed to time it so perfectly, but he epitomized it to the growing bond between him and Dean. But now here Dean, was, standing in front of him, and thank goodness, out of harm's way.

Dean turned around, stunned, but the look on his face was relieved.

"That was pretty nice timing, Cas." So Dean had noticed. Castiel let himself smile, which was nice. Not having to worry about simple things like smiling.

"We had an appointment." Both Dean and Cas knew how much was behind those words. It was more than an "appointment," it was about loyalty and protection and happiness and all of the great things that he and Dean shared.

Dean smiled, his face filled with an emotion Cas hadn't seen yet. It looked like endearment. Dean's eyes were a little sad inside, but he looked at Castiel with the most wonderful expression Cas thought he'd ever seen.

Dean stepped forward, into his space, and placed a hand on Cas's shoulder. The touch was warm and electrifying at the same time. Castiel could stay like this forever, just letting Dean connect them with this physical bond. 

"Don't ever change," Dean's eyes were still sad, but his mouth was crooked in a teasing smile. Those words were the best part though. Dean looked at him like that, that endearment, and wanted Castiel just the way he was. Cas was convinced there was nothing better.

Dean's hand slid off, brushing down Cas's arm. Cas felt a pulsing warmth everywhere Dean's hand had brushed. He smiled at Dean, carefully and happily, knowing the same endearment showed on his own face. Castiel loved Dean, and whether or not Dean felt the exact same way, it didn't matter. Dean loved him in a special way, and that was all Cas would ever need. 

"How did Zachariah find you?" Cas's eyes followed the movement of Dean's head as he looked down, getting something out of his pockets.

"Long story. Let's just stay away from Jovah's witnesses from now on, okay?" Let's was a contraction of "let us," meaning us. The two of them. Dean _still_ included Cas in his future plans. 

"What're you doin'?" It felt a little odd not to say the "g" at the end of doing, but it was nice. Less formal. More them.

"Somethin I should've done in the first place." It didn't take much observation to notice that it took quite some time for Dean to ring his brother. Normally Dean would just hit one button, and the phone would instantly ring for Sam. Cas thought he'd heard Dean call it "speed dial" or something like that. Whatever it was, it looked like Sam wasn't on it. Cas wondered if he was. Either way, Castiel was also fairly sure that Dean would put Sam back on speed dial, basing off how he was actually calling him for a change.

Dean looked over at Cas, and Cas understood. Dean couldn't be Dean if he didn't have Sam in his life. This wasn't a problem for Cas. He knew, that no matter what happened, there was a part of Dean that loved him. 

And that was all he'd ever need.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean felt Sam approaching before he actually heard or saw the car. It was odd, but one moment he had been looking at the dirt, and the next he was looking towards the road, knowing Sam's car would come into view soon. And it did, ugly ass car, kicking up a ton of dust. Just like the last time Dean had seen Sam (the real Sam, not Lucifer) kicking up dust as he drove away. 

Dean watched for a moment before he looked down, kicking his boots into the ground like a three year old. He was nervous, damn nervous. If this went wrong, he could lose Sammy forever. And there was no way Dean was willing to do that.

He started walking towards the car once the door opened, not bothering with the whole "meet half way" thing. He'd give this whatever he had to give. Sam was walking hesitantly, his shoulders tense and hands attempting not to clench into fists. He was on guard, and for good reason too, based on how Dean had basically dumped his ass on the phone last night. Or early this morning, whatever it was. Sam stopped walking about two feet in front of where he normally stood when talking to Dean, and the extra space felt like miles.

"Sam," Dean greeted him. He knew it was horribly lame, and not representative of their relationship at all, but it was all he had to give right now. Dean pulled out Ruby's knife, what had once been so precious and was now barely more than normal. He tilted the hilt to Sam, looking up at him with shy eyes.

"If you're serious, and you want back in, you should hang on to this. I'm sure you're rusty." Dean didn't look at Sam until after he felt Sam grab the hilt. Sam didn't look any different after the peace offering, his face still guarded and eyes still upset.

"Look man, I'm sorry." Sam's eyes darted, the first telltale sign of emotion. "I don't know, whatever I need to be, but I was, uh, wrong."

Sam took in a breath at the word wrong, like he'd been dying to hear it. It had been what, less than 16 hours since Dean had said goodbye? And Sam was already a wreck. God, for once, Dean was grateful he'd been zapped into the future.

"What made you change your mind?" Everything. Watching what happens to you. Watching what happens to _me_. Finding out from myself that what I've felt inside for you since you were twenty and college-bound, that feeling? It's exactly what I was afraid of. And apparently it never fades, never goes away. 

"Long story," Dean settled with. Maybe he'd tell Sam all of it one day. "The point is, maybe we are each other's Achilles heel."

Sam looked down at that, not wanting to be Dean's weakness. Dean knew, he knew how hard it was to have the thought dangling over your head that the one you love could be hurt most by only you.

"Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know." Sam was breathing slowly and deliberately, like he was trying to keep his body under control. Dean looked at Sam, his eyes starting to water again. This was way too much emotion in one day. But Dean said it anyways.

"I just know, we're all we've got. My entire world is us, Sam. You and me. Our love is the only thing that I could still hold on to, no matter what evil sons of bitches try to take from me." Sam was looking at him, still trying not to let Dean see how he was feeling. But Dean had had a lot of practice of confessing things to stone walls (cough Castiel cough) and he knew he had to get this across to Sam.

"More than that. We keep each other human." That was the best way Dean could sum it up. Sum up what he had become when he didn't have Sam. Sum up what Sam became. What Sam had become when Dean had gone to hell. What Dean had become when Sam had been stabbed in the back. All of the cold-hearted yelling, the yes to demons, all of it because they couldn't function without each other. Sam was the better half of Dean, and Dean would do whatever it took to keep him.

"Thank you." That was unexpected. Normally Sam would ramble off some girly speech or something. But it was just a thank you. Dean had hurt Sam so much more than he thought.

"Really, thank you." Dean nodded his head, looking down as the pain in Sam's eyes became too intense to look at.

"I won't let you down." 

"Oh, I know it. I mean, you are the second best hunter on the planet." Sam nodded, having heard the words Dean didn't say. This conversation was hardly just about hunting. It was about them. And Sam knew this was Dean's way of saying he loved him.

"So, what do we do now?" Sam sighed out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 

"We make our own future." We. You and me, together, Sammy. _Our_ future. Sam nodded, tilting his head in acknowledgement,

"Guess we have no choice." Dean nodded and looked at Sam. They both stood for a moment, just looking at each other. Finally Dean stepped forward, closing the miles between them. They weren't touching, just a few inches away. Sam's breathing hitched as he looked back down at Dean. Dean lifted his hand to the back of Sam's neck, touching him carefully, like he was a flighty bird that might take off at any moment. Dean leaned forward and softly pressed their lips together, only lingering for a moment before he drew back. 

Sam's eyes were closed and his lips were still parted, like he could hardly believe that just happened. Dean watched as Sam flicked his eyes back open, looking at Dean longingly. Dean started slipping his hand away from Sam's neck when Sam's arms suddenly wrapped around Dean, circling him in a loose hold. Sam still felt like he was hesitating, afraid Dean didn't want him. 

"It's alright, Sam. I'm not gonna leave you again, I promise." Dean sealed his promise by leaning up again, bringing up his other hand to the back of Sam's neck and kissing him a little harder. Sam seemed to believe him this time, based on the way he opened up his mouth and tightened his grip on Dean, pulling him in closer. 

"I missed you," Sam finally murmured, a few minutes later. Dean grinned sadly up at him, his eyes full of memories of the future. 

"I missed you too, Sammy. I missed you too."


	27. Austerity (Fallen Idols  05x05)

When he first walked in on Dean's phone conversation, Sam was pretty sure it would be Castiel. Sam still didn't know what exactly had happened between Dean and the angel, and why Dean automatically assumed Cas was on the phone when he'd called a few days ago at four in the morning, and why Cas was standing at Dean's side when Dean called Sam back that afternoon, asking for them to meet. 

Turns out it was Bobby on the phone, and Dean was being a dick, but Sam responded more pissed than he should have. He snapped at Dean, "I thought this was supposed to be a fresh start," but a lot of that anger wasn't over what Dean said. Dean knew it was just as much his fault the apocalypse started (okay, not just as much. It was like 70 Sam and 30 Dean) although it was a deusch move to bring it up, it wasn't what Sam had meant by yelling at Dean. To be honest, Sam knew Dean wasn't telling him things, which was fine, Sam was keeping secrets too, but this whole Cas tension was putting Sam on edge.

It was another few hours before Sam had cornered Dean enough to talk about this. The conversation was going as smoothly as could be expected, until Sam fessed up something he wasn't planning on really ever telling Dean. But it was hardly a choice at this point.

"Dean, one of the reasons I went off with Ruby, was to get away from you." Dean looked at Sam, austerity written on all of his features. Dean cocked his head, raising his eyebrows. 

"What?"

"It made me feel strong, like I wasn't your...kid brother." Dean's eyes shifted horizontally, before he closed them and shook his head, before looking accusingly at Sam.

"Are you saying this is my fault?"

"No. It's my fault. All I'm saying is that if we're gonna do this - hunting, and us, as a you and me - we have to do it different. We can't just fall into the same rut. I want us to work Dean. And not just with hunting, I want whatever we've got...I want that to work out too." Dean looked down and licked his lips, one of his body language things that meant he was definitely not agreeing with Sam right now, and this was a lot for him to take. Dean bit his lip before looking back up, his words surprisingly quiet and subdominant.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You're gonna have to let me grow up, for starters." Dean reeled back at that, like Sam was falsely accusing him. Or maybe like that was way too much to ask. Sam looked back at Dean sternly. They had to be equals in order to have a relationship. Even if it wasn't an official one. It was still there though, there was no use in denying it.

The phone ringing cut the conversation short. There was a instant where Sam thought it might be Cas, but he was thankfully wrong again. They still needed to talk about this, but now they had more work to do. 

It was after they'd finished the job and were standing behind the Impala when Dean brought it back up.

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About me keeping too tight of a leash on you. Well, maybe you're right." Sam kind of did a double-take, looking at Dean curiously.

"Look, I'm not the type to know how to work a functional relationship. The closest thing I've got to one is me and the Impala." Sam snorted at that, looking down.

"But I want this to work out too, Sam. So I'm gonna do what it takes. And take this apocalypse stuff with it too. You know, I'm not exactly Mr. Innocent in this whole mess either, you know, I did break the first seal."

"You didn't know." Sam's words weren't meant to be comforting, just stating a simple fact.

"Neither did you. I'm not saying demon blood was a great way to go, but you did kill Lilith." Sam argued him for a moment, but eventually just let Dean talk.

"Point is, I was so worried about what you were doing, I didn't see what it was doing to you. So for that I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

Sam had already started for shotgun when Dean's voice stopped him.

"Hey," Sam turned around, although Dean still had his back to him. Dean turned slowly, lifting up his hand and rapidly holding out the keys to Sam. "You wanna drive?"

Dean had asked him to drive before, and offered a few times too, but this time was different. It was like Dean was offering the Impala as a sort of peace offering and acceptance for being equals now. Which for Dean, was a lot to offer.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I could, uh. I could use a nap." Dean threw out the excuse to make this seem less important than it was, but it didn't matter. Sam saw the true meaning anyways.

Dean placed the keys on Sam's palm, his fingers skirting around Sam's wrist quickly before he drew his hand back. Sam took the keys, but quickly pocketed them, reaching back for Dean's hand. Dean had already started to turn a little, but stopped when he felt Sam's hand grabbing his. Dean looked up at Sam, surprised. Before Dean could protest or rattle off something about girliness, Sam tugged Dean by his hand, pulling him closer. They'd grabbed each other's necks and shirts and belt loops before, but never each other's hands. It was kind of a coupley thing to do. But Sam did it anyways.

Dean's chest was now an inch away from Sam's, but Sam didn't let go of his hand. Dean blinked up at him in surprise, but didn't move to turn away. Sam placed his other hand on Dean's lower back, pulling him flush against Sam, and entwined their fingers of the enjoined hands at the same time. Dean looked down at their clasped hands, looking back up at Sam confusedly. Dean's other hand was on Sam's bicep, gripping kind of tightly like he would fall despite Sam's arm wrapped around his waist.

Sam leaned down and kissed Dean gently, keeping his eyes open just long enough to see Dean's flutter closed. Sam smiled slightly into the kiss, pulling back after a moment. Dean's eyes fluttered back open, and he looked like he was drunk on emotions. Dean's eyes were searching Sam's, looking for some clue or puzzle piece to figure out what exactly had just happened. Sam just grinned slightly and unwrapped his arm from Dean's waist. Dean's hand on his bicep fell to his side.

Sam kept their hands entwined as he spun around to the other side of Dean. Dean still didn't pull back, probably from shock. Sam turned his body towards the driver door, slowly letting his fingers slip out of Dean's, sliding out from them like water. At the last possible moment, Sam paused and let the edges of their fingertips touch for just a second longer before he pulled his hand back and dug out the keys.

Dean was still standing there with his hand kind out outstretched, not moving a muscle. Sam tried not to laugh at the look on Dean's face. After a moment, Dean seemed to snap back to reality and stumbled over to the passenger's door. He got inside and closed the door carefully, just sitting and staring forward.

"Hey Dean." Sam said, turning his head over to Dean as he started the engine.

"Hmm?" Dean asked, just making a noise like he was afraid what his voice would sound like if he spoke. Sam grinned and put his hand on the radio, bracing himself for the punch he was 100% sure was coming.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Sam laughed as Dean's fist slammed into his arm, pulling out of this nowhere town with a smile on his face for the first time in a while.


	28. Assertions (I Believe the Children Are Our Future  05x06)

Dean was a little bit surprised when Cas showed up in the motel room. Normally Dean could sense Castiel really easily, but he didn't see this one coming. Maybe it was the Enochian Sidual thing in his ribs? 

Sam sighed and sat down at the table, his eyebrows furrowed with what looked like it was a little something more than just the case.

"I take it you got our message." Good, civil words. Maybe Dean's gut instinct that said that Sam didn't like Cas was wrong. Maybe Dean was just thinking into this a bit much. Although it was the first time Dean had been with both of them since both of his relationships had sparked. It wasn't like Dean and Cas were doing things lately, he hadn't even talked to the guy much since he got back with Sam. But that didn't mean Dean forgot what had happened between them. It wasn't exactly over, just kind of set aside for now. Which seemed best.

"It's lucky you found the boy." Cas was standing pretty far away and pretty awkwardly. Maybe he wasn't quite so kosher with the idea of putting his relationship with Dean back to just friends. Or maybe Dean just liked to overthink everything. 

"Oh yeah, real lucky." Dean sat his keys on the counter, coming up behind Sam automatically. He was always moving to get to that comfortable distance, a few inches away from his brother, where Dean felt safest and most strong. "What do we do with him?"

"Kill him." Well that was pretty harsh. Sam was in the middle of loosening his collar when he stopped and stared at Castiel. Dean stopped too, his eyes darting from Sam's hands to the angel's face.

Dean tilted his head in a silent question, ignoring the straight line of Cas's mouth that meant he was trying to hide his emotions. Back to this whole hiding thing, great.

"Cas," Dean said, his paragraph long speech understood in the one word.

"This child is half demon and half human, but it's far more powerful than either." Castiel continued his little schpeel about the kid, Sam soaking up the information like the geek he was. Dean kind of half-listened, paying more attention to the body language of the two men.

Castiel was acting a bit more cocky than he did when it was just Dean, leaning back in his chair and using showy words paired with a few rude assertions like "No, of course not."

Sam was buying into all of it, leaning forward and trying to get what information he could. But Dean was still behind Sam, and he saw the tense ripple across Sam's shoulders. Sam was definitely upset, and pretty uncomfortable.

Cas's lecture was more rude than Dean had ever heard him talk. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, trying to get a read off Cas. It was almost like Cas was being show-offy in front of Sam or something. Like he was trying to out-do him in some competition that Dean had no idea they were even participating in.

Suddenly Sam was turned around and looking at Dean, and Dean tried to engage a bit more in the conversation. He kind of knew what was happening, but Sam was in a suit and Cas was here and they were fighting in between the lines and Dean was hungry and that kid was scary and he was kind of lost and confused right now.

But Sam apparently saw whatever he needed to see on Dean's expression, because he stood up quickly.

"Wait. We're the good guys, we don't just kill children." Sam was looking down on Cas and pointing at Dean, making the two of them a united front, and Cas the enemy. Body language wise anyways. But Castiel would have none of it, and he stood too, still not as tall as Sam (no one in the entire world was, Dean had decided) but standing powerful.

"A year ago, you would've done whatever. it. took. to win this war." Castiel's voice reminded Dean of that one time Cas had cornered him and leaned into his bubble, saying menacingly and low, _you should show me some respect._ Although Cas was no where as close to Sam right now as he had been to Dean that day. Which was good, cause Dean wasn't sure how anyone in the room would react if Castiel decided to get that physically close to Sam. Awwkwarrddd.

"Things change." Sam surprisingly didn't say his words aggressively, although he didn't take a a defense (that's my boy) either.

They stared each other down for a moment and Dean shifted his eyes between the two of them, kind of uncomfortably, but still observing and trying to figure out when to intercede and stop a fight from happening. Dean knew them both well, and figured Sam would snap first, physically anyways, and Dean had to be ready to stop some sort of showdown. Although this already felt like one.

Dean decided this was enough already, and stepped forward. He put his hand on Sam, knowing that touch was still the fastest and most effective way to communicate with his brother. Sam was tense and hot to the touch, and Dean didn't leave his hand for long, but used it to spring himself in front of Sam by slightly moving Sam's shoulder behind him. Sam watched him briefly before turning back to Cas, back where Dean could protect him. Dean was always a few inches in front of Sam when things got rough. Now was no different, and it was just instinct that made him do it. 

The hand grab also snapped Sam out of the staring contest, snapping him back into reality while at the same time, communicating Dean's reminder to stay calm and not let Cas get to him. Sam got the whole message and backed down on the intensity, letting Dean step in and speak.

"Okay, hey, look, we are not going to kill him, alright?" Castiel glared down Sam for another moment before turning to Dean, his expression turning betrayed and hurt. 

"But we can't leave Jessie here either. We know that." Castiel took a breath, his eyes slightly less hurt, but still pretty wounded. 

"So, we take him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do." His pain turned to anger quickly though. Dean couldn't blame him for that, that was Dean's signature move. Turning pain into anger was pretty much the best way to deal with anything.

"You'll kidnap him." Cas accused. Dean did his "sounds about right" upside down grin, looking over to Sam. Sam flashed his eyes and tilted his head slightly. "Whatever it takes to do this right" along with agreeing to Dean's plan. 

"What is going on in this town-" Dean dragged his gaze away from Sam (in a suit) and back to Castiel. "-is what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry."

Dean took in the words, and Castiel's tone with it. He was pretty upset. And it felt like it was more upsetness than was necessary for a little boy. Yeah, Dean was definitely not overthinking earlier. Cas got upset just by Dean turning to Sam. This was pretty bad.

"Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be halfway around the world." Castiel had a point. Dean looked down, trying to improvise his plan. 

"So we-"

"So we tell him the truth." Not what Dean was gonna suggest, but whatever floats the boat. Sam stepped forward and back into the conversation, intimidating his height on Castiel. "You said he's destined to go dark side. Then fine, but he hasn't yet."

Castiel turned his gaze away from Sam and towards Dean, watching Dean instead of the giant looming over him. His face was "c'mon, do I really have to deal with this. We all know where this is going and this is ridiculous." But Dean kept his face emotionless, not intruding on the conversation.

"So if we lay it all out for him, what he is, the apocalypse, everything, he might make the right choice." Dean's eyes watched as Sam spoke. This wasn't really about Jessie anymore, it was about Sam, and everyone in the room knew it.

The two stared each other down some more. Dean wasn't really sure what was going to happen next. Maybe Cas would flock off.

But what Dean didn't see coming was Cas's next move. He leaned forward, his voice low and accusing.

"You didn't." Sam swallowed, his arms twitching at his sides. Dean watched him try to slow his heartbeat, try not to let it get to him. "And I. can't. take. that chance."

Sam tilted his head and gritted his teeth, using every ounce of his self control not to react.

Dean looked down, knowing Castiel was right, and knowing Sam needed this more than anything. Sam needed to see it could be done, making the right choice. But it was dangerous, Cas was right. So then, what to do?

But Castiel disappeared with the fluttery wings thing, and they were left alone. Sam breathed in the moment Cas was gone, like he had been holding his breath that whole time. He probably had been.

"Damn it." Sam breathed out. His breathing was heavy like he'd just gotten in a fight. Well, he had, but still, it was only verbal. 

Dean stepped forward, placing a hand on Sam's back.

"We'll stop Cas, don't worry Sam." Sam looked at Dean appreciatively, sinking into the touch. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and Dean let him, swinging around to the front of Sam and bringing his other hand up to rub his back, one hand supporting and the other stroking. Sam stood, relaxed for about ten seconds before he opened his eyes again. 

"We've gotta get going, we still have to drive all the way over there." Sam said it regrettably, but reached out his hands to grab Dean's forearms and pull him gently off. Dean sighed.

"Yeah, I know, let's go." Dean turned and grabbed the keys, opening the door and heading out. Sam was right behind him, just like always.


	29. Infatuation (The Curious Case of Dean Winchester  05x07)

"Does your big brother know you're here?" Patrick watches as Sam turns his head down and away. Sam was so interesting, he'd thought so the moment Patrick had met him.

"Bet five," Sam responded, meeting Patrick's eyes with a fierce stance. 

"Didn't think so." Patrick watched Sam's jaw shift uncomfortably. "I raise."

Patrick starts out on his verbal game, using the poker chips swinging in his hand to keep Sam's focus. Telling him exactly what Sam was fearing, based on the way the three men had acted around each other. Sam was a tough one, though, and swung right back.

"Does this arm-chair psychology thing usually work for you?" Sassy. That was nice.

"You tell me. You're the one who's losin'." Sam just looked at him, turning back to his cards. But Patrick knew he could dig a little deeper with his words.

"So what else doesn't big brother know?" Sam's eyes were on the hand of cards in front of him. Patrick leaned forward a bit, taking the toothpick out of his mouth.

"Does he know how you feel about him Sam?" Sam's eyes flashed, and his hand jerked slightly, but other than that, no tells. He was quite good. But Patrick was better.

"Dean's a pretty observant guy. Don't you think he would've noticed how you stare at him by now? Or maybe he already has. Maybe big brother's just got a few more morals than little brother. Is that it, Sam?"

Sam's hands were shaking slightly now and his jaw was clenched. This was dangerous territory, Patrick could tell. A real soft spot if he ever saw one.

"Bet ten." Sam growled, shoving the poker chips forward. Patrick put the toothpick back in and leaned back, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Breaking Sam would be easy. He was already broken in so many ways. Patrick could practically feel Sam's longing towards Dean, how he puppy-dogged behind Dean's every step. It was actually quite cute, and Patrick felt a little bad for having to destroy their relationship with Dean's death. Which Sam didn't know about yet, but Patrick could easily throw that into conversation. If mentioning Sam's infatuation with Dean wasn't enough, Patrick was sure that Sam would crack at the idea of his love dying. Man, this was going to be one fun poker game.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean was shirtless and doing pushups when Sam opened the door to their motel room. He'd been doing them for a while, based on the sweat beading on his back and the slight dampness at the base of his neck. Sam suddenly wished the door hadn't been so creaky, so he could slip in the room unnoticed and just watch Dean. But Dean must have heard the creak, because he switched to one arm, locking the other behind his back. Sam was still standing in the doorway, just watching Dean. 

Dean did ten with his right arm before he switched to the left. His back muscles rippled, almost golden in the yellow motel room lighting. Sam couldn't take his eyes off of Dean's damp skin, nor did he really want to. Sam closed the door behind him, his eyes not leaving Dean for a millisecond. 

Finally Dean put his right hand back to the floor and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling for just a moment from rising too quickly. Sam slowly took a step towards Dean, who was still facing the wall, rolling his shoulders out and stretching his back muscles. Dean leaned forward slightly, to realign his spine, and Sam swallowed roughly, his breathing catching before starting to speed up. Sam reached out an arm, curling his fingers onto Dean's skin, wrapping his hand around Dean's exposed hipbone. Dean didn't so much as flinch with surprise, instead he straightened up and reached his hand down, putting it on top of Sam's. Sam was slightly dizzy as his hand got enveloped by Dean's, pressing his fingers harder into Dean's hip.

Dean stepped backwards, his body still facing away from Sam, until his back was a few inches away from Sam's chest. Dean's feet were planted in between Sam's, and his hand came up to grab Sam's other hand, wrapping it around to Dean's chest. Sam splayed his fingers on the damp, bare skin and pushed backwards, colliding their bodies together. Dean was warm and seeping into Sam's tshirt. Dean rolled his head backwards onto Sam's collarbone, Sam being able to see the side of his face now, Dean's eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Sam leaned his head down to Dean's ear, his lips brushing it as he whispered.

"Is this really necessary, Dean?" Sam could feel the shiver rake through Dean's body. Dean paused a moment before his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He kept his eyes closed as he answered.

"Mmmm, just got my body back, of course I have to work out. I couldn't just sit there, I had to _sweat_." Sam tightened his hand on Dean's hipbone at that, digging his fingers deep enough to bruise. Dean's eyes fluttered and he made a quiet noise, more felt than heard. Sam pressed his lips into the side of Dean's exposed neck, his tongue barely brushing the salty skin. 

Dean tightened his grip on Sam's hands and quickly swung Sam's chest-cradling-arm over his head and spun around, leaving the hand Sam had on Dean's hip to trace across the line of sweat on Dean's lower back and land on his other hip. Dean stepped forward and pressed their chests flush together, looking up at Sam with dark emerald eyes. Sam's free hand that wasn't on Dean's hip settled on his mid-back, fingers tracing over newly worked muscles. The skin rippled under Sam's fingertips, responding automatically to the light touch. Dean brought his hands up to the back of Sam's neck, fingers tangling in the bottom of his hair and pulling Sam's head down, connecting their lips.

Dean tasted salty and wet, but still extremely overwhelmingly _Dean_. Sam opened Dean's mouth with his tongue, pressing harder and tilting to the side. Dean's tongue swirled into Sam's mouth, leaving the taste of salt and Dean in its wake. Sam would have chased it, before Dean suddenly pulled Sam's bottom lip into his own mouth and sucked on it, hard. Sam pulled back his head and separated their mouths for a moment, gasping in a breath. Dean grinned wickedly at the gasp for oxygen and instantly connected their lips again, pushing on Sam's chest and sending them both over to Dean's bed. Sam walked backwards eagerly, letting Dean lead him as they kissed. The edge of the bed hit the back of Sam's legs and Dean brought his hands further down on Sam's chest, pushing him down a little forcefully and disconnecting their mouths. 

The sweaty, muscular body was quick to follow, crawling up the length of Sam's and pressing their mouths together again. They were making out, on Dean's bed. _Horizontally._ Sam couldn't help but moan at that thought, trying to push it out of his mind. Which was virtually impossible with Dean on top if him right now. On top of him. Dean kissed the moan right out of Sam's mouth, sloppily fitting his lips over Sam's again and again. 

Sam returned the kisses with fervor and raked both of his hands down Dean's back, from his shoulders to the waistband of the sweats Dean had thrown on. Dean in sweats was literally one of Sam's favorite things in the entire world. Dean was still hovering above Sam, so Sam tugged lightly on Dean's lip with his teeth and applied pressure to the hands that were grazing Dean's waistband. Dean obliged and flattened his body down, his sweaty chest sticking slightly to Sam's. Sam let his fingertips linger just under the elastic on Dean's sweats, his fingers dangerously close to new territory.

Dean shifted his weight and Sam could suddenly feel something hard pressing into his thigh. Dean's sweats didn't hide much, although Sam's jeans weren't exactly hiding anything either. It was just a lot easier to feel the heat from Dean with so little fabric covering him. Sam groaned and rolled his hips upward slightly. It was his body and he so ehow had no control over it, over how much he was pounding for need right now with that hard outline pressing into his thigh. Dean just smiled into Sam's mouth, nipping at his lip one more time before he broke their mouths away from each other.

"A little eager there, huh Sammy?" Dean teased, his voice low and gravely. Sam could die just from the sound of Dean's voice, let alone the fact that he said the words with his lips ghosting over Sam's. 

"Sorry, I just, um. Missed you." Sam spoke in a sort of lameass excuse, his eyes trapped in the green ones above his. He was fairly sure he had all his internal freaking out words plastered on his face right now, the horizontal and half naked and half hard Dean literally on top of him right now. Dean chuckled softly like he could maybe hear Sam's thoughts, pressing his lips down on Sam's again for just a moment before he pulled back and sat up, rolling off of Sam and placing his feet on the floor. 

"I am in desperate need of a shower," Dean announced, running a hand across his abs and wrinkling his nose at the dampness. Sam tried not to whimper, and Dean looked back up at him. Dean just smirked and leaned down, pressing another kiss to Sam's lips. Sam kept his eyes closed for an extra moment after Dean pulled away. When he opened them, Dean was staring at him, but quickly turned away when Sam noticed. 

"I'll be back soon," he threw over his shoulder as he spun on his heel and closed the bathroom door behind him. Sam lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, not willing to move. He couldn't think about anything except for green eyes, plump lips, and golden rippling muscles. Patrick had been partially right: Sam had it bad for his brother. But Sam was pretty sure Dean wasn't exactly innocent either. He may be better at denying it, but Sam was fairly sure Dean would realize just how intense this had gotten fairly soon. He probably would deny it for quite some time though, because that was Dean. And Sam loved every part of Dean, even the annoying, gambling, foolish parts. Because it was still Dean. And Dean was his.


	30. Acutely (Changing Channels  05x08)

Dean had thrown his hand over his mouth in shock, which was kind of girly, but hey, he was time warped in TV land so everything was weird. He really wished he wasn't strapped down so he could go over and comfort Sam, make sure he's okay, rub his back or _something_ but he was stuck in front of his own machine. As if this couldn't get any weirder, there was an intense banging at the entrance door, then suddenly the doors blasted open to reveal...Cas?

The first thing Dean thought was worry, because so far everything they'd encountered had to do with shows that Dean secretly watched and fangirled over. And now Cas was here. Whom Dean secretly fangirled over. (Dean didn't watch this stupid japanese game show, but there were some Busty Asian Beauties in here, so it still was related to him in some way.) But Sam was here, and now was not the best time for a little domestic showdown. Especially with the Trickster hot on their trails.

But Dean was still glad to see Cas, if it really was Cas, despite all of the drama and weirdness.

"Cas?" Dean said. God, his voice sounded frantically desperate. Need to tone it down a bit.

"Is this another trick?" Sam asked. Ah, great minds think alike.

"It's me," Cas said. Well that was good. Because if the trickster had made a fake Cas that would not have gone well at all. "Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Us? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, you've been missing for days." Was that normal? Did Cas really just refer to both of them and only look at Dean? That was normal, wasn't it.

"So get us the hell out of here then!" Sam said. Pushy pushy. Cas glanced at Sam for a millisecond before turning back to Dean.

"Let's go." Castiel reached out his hands to touch them both, then suddenly disappeared in a flash of static. Um, that wasn't good.

"Cas?" Again, Dean's voice was so desperate sounding. Well, he hadn't seen Cas in a long time, too long, and all the sudden when the guy shows up, he vanishes again. That was just great.

"No, no, no, no. Mista Tricksta does not like, pretty boy angels." Dean registered that. So the trickster thought Cas was pretty too. Dean quickly looked up at Sam, seeing if his brother was tapping into his thoughts. Nope. Then he looked away, trying to figure out how in the world this creature had just zapped out an angel. Cas had better come back.

And he did, when he and Sam were trying to figure out whether they were going to die in their freakishly bright motel room. Cas just came busting through the door, looking pretty busted up himself. His nose was bleeding from a cut on the arch and one of his eyes was swollen. Dude looked like a mess.

"You okay?" Cas being hurt scared Dean, because it was a really rare occasion that he actually got hurt.

"I don't have much time." Well that didn't sound good. 

"What happened?" Sam spoke, since Dean was still kind of standing open mouthed, looking at Cas. He hadn't ever really seen Cas beat up before. He knew it had happened before, but now he had to see it and it scared the hell out of him. He just wanted to walk over and give Cas something to drink, stitch him up and tuck him in. Poor angel, looked like a wreck.

"I got out." Castiel was oddly far away again. Dean wanted to step closer, but decided against it in their circumstances.

"From where?" Dean had finally found words again. Staring was pretty obvious, especially when there was a crowd watching you.

"Listen to me. Something's not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be.

"What thing? The trickster?"

"If it is a trickster."

"Whaddu you mean?" Castiel opened his mouth to answer but was suddenly flung against the motel room wall. The trickster jumped in the door, talking to the crowd. Dean took the moment of distraction to look over at Cas, make sure he was okay. Castiel had duct tape over his mouth.

Really, Dean? Of all times, right now is not the time to be thinking about Cas with duct tape over his mouth. Can't you ever do anything without it turning sexual in some way? Ever?

"Hi, Castiel!" The trickster said. Cas looked wide-eyed at Dean. Dean didn't do a lot of silent communication with people besides Sam, but he was getting better with Cas. So he read his eyes, for the few moments he could, before Cas was staticified again. But Dean had got the message: Cas knew who the trickster was. He recognized him. Dean filed this away for later information.

"Where did you send him?" Dean demanded.

"Relax. Your boyfriend angel will live. Mmmmaybe." Dean half rolled his eyes and half decided he was going to kill the trickster. Sam was standing like a solid wall, staring down the trickster with his death glare. Dean walked behind Sam, over to where he could threaten the trickster himself, while still having his giant wall backing him up.

"You know what? I'm done with the monkey dance. Kay? We get it." Dean was walking quickly, his momentum hardly stoppable, and he almost hit Sam's shoulder as he brushed around him, barely centimeters away. But Dean was really acutely aware of where Sam was, knew exactly how wide Sam's shoulders would be, and timed it perfectly, sliding around his brother with terrifying speed.

But the trickster hardly seemed scared, spewing off his little life lesson speech. Dean had had enough of this crap already, why was it still happening?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean had a bit of a drive ahead of him, and he was used to talking to Sam on car rides, so he might as well still. even if Sam...was...the car.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?" His voice was metallic and filtered sounding, but it was at least still Sam.

"I, uh, pictured the first time I was inside you to go a bit differently."

"Shut the fuck up, Dean." Dean snickered. Mission Annoy Sam accomplished. "I will drive us both into a ditch."

"Hey, hey, don't you threaten my baby."

"I _am_ your baby Dean. Oh shit, not like that." Dean full out laughed, smacking the steering wheel once for good measure.

"That's right Sammy. You're my baby."

"Dean, really? I get the same nickname as your car."

"You are my car. And I'm gonna drive you alllll night long."

Sam suddenly jerked the wheel, skidding the car slightly and making Dean lose his control. Sam corrected it a few seconds later, but Dean was still clutching the steering wheel with wide eyes.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll stop with the car jokes. Don't you wreck my car, Sam."

"Hey, you're the one driving."

"That's right, bitch. You get to be sub." Dean muttered under his breath.

"What's that?"

"Oh nothin'. Don't you worry your pretty little rims, baby."

Sam just sighed, flashing the headlights a couple of times before he fell back into silence. Dean hated the trickster, but hey, this could be fun sometimes. Even though it was really, really weird.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey man, you okay?" Dean looked over at Sam, kind of tense in the passenger seat. Sam looked back at him, his face still grim.

"Depends on what you're talking about."

"Well you were walkin kind of funny back there." Dean chanced a side grin at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat but wincing a bit. Dean hadn't known that simply getting stuff out of the trunk of the Impala meant he'd technically be in Impala-Sam's ass. And it totally shouldn't have transferred over to the real Sam, but Gabriel thought he was funny and decided to make Sam keep the feeling of Dean's fingers in his ass. For whatever stupid reason it was.

"That Gabriel is a pain in the ass, huh, Sammy? No pun intended." Sam reached over and punched Dean's arm. Dean leaned away from him, cowering for a moment.

"Hey, hey, driving here." Sam just sighed and returned his hand to his lap. Dean drove a couple of miles before he spoke again.

"No, really man. You alright?" Dean was a little worried, he wasn't sure just how that had felt for Sam. Or any of today, actually. That whole destiny thing always seemed to hit Sam pretty hard.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was a bit uncomfortable, but I'll survive."

"I'll make it up to you some time, kay? Show you how it's supposed to feel."

"Just because I'm not your baby anymore doesn't mean I don't know how to crash her."

"You'll always be my baby." Here comes another punch to the shoulder.

"How come you always get violent when I joke?"

"How come you always turn everything sexual when you joke?" 

Touché. Dean didn't really have a good answer for that one. So he just tilted his head and focused back on the road. A few more miles down the road, nothing but trees and empty pavement. Dean was enjoying the nice silence and the sound of Sam breathing, when Sam spoke up again.

"But today kind of sucked."

"It could've been worse, right? At least he didn't put us in a porno."

"Don't even pretend you weren't hoping for that."

"Speak for yourself. You totally were too."

"Was not!"

"Were too! You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me, Sam."

"Really, Dean, I wasn't hoping for it."

"Yeah, right. Like you didn't wanna get laid."

"Not by you. Not like that. Not in some alternate universe where it doesn't mean anything."

The suddenly escalating volume of voices stopped as Sam nearly shouted that. Dean just sat in silence, soaking in the words. So Sam had thought about it. He just wanted it to be real. But he'd actually thought about him and Dean-

Dean shook his head slightly, clearing the thought. He'd think about this later, when his, Sam's, and his other baby's lives didn't depend on his focus and motor skills. Fantasizing while you're driving was never a good idea.

"Sorry, I, uh," Sam started to stammer. Dean shook his head, his eyes still on the road.

"Sam, it's fine. I understand. I was thinking the same thing." Well, kind of. I don't have quite as many morals as you and I would've been fine being stuck in a porno with you, but hey, that was Dean for you.

"You were?"

"Well, mostly." Sam turned his head back to the window, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knew Dean well enough to know what he meant.

"Let's just put this all behind us though, Sam. Kay?"

"Yeah, sounds good to me." Their voices were back to normal now, things were back to normal. Although there was one thing Dean wasn't going to let slip, it was too great to just put behind them.

"I'm still gonna call you baby though."


	31. Oblivious (The Real Ghostbusters  05x09)

The problem was (actually this whole frikin thing was a problem) that they were ending up being treated like everyone else at the convention. Which is why Sam somehow got dragged by the arm by some overeager tour guide person into a session he really was not interested in. Well, he was interested, but he didn't exactly feel like going to a convention class about it.

Dean had pulled his arm away from the tour guide, insisting he'd come in in a moment, but as soon as she turned her head, he motioned to Sam that he was out, and headed for the bar. Sam had made a desperate face, but Dean just winked and said _have fun, Sammy_.

Which is how Sam ended up in a chair that was much too small for him, staring up at the annoying fat announcer man. He was pretty sure today couldn't get any weirder.

"Alright, thank you all for coming to the session on "The homoerotic subtext of Supernatural." First, how many people in this room think that Sam and Dean are in love?" Sam's eyes widened as he looked around, seeing almost all the hands in the room go up. For a brief moment, Sam wondered how many of those hands would lower if they'd seen Dean with Cas. Then Sam shook his head and threw away that thought.

"Well, all of you who are oblivious to the blatantly obvious, you will leave this room thinking differently. Our first topic of discussion today is not the lingering looks, nor the constant touching. Let's analyze some moments, starting off with some of Dean's finest. 

First, let's talk about the last scene of the book. Dean is in hell, strung up in a net of rusting chains, surrounded by a dark, wet glow. Despite the large metal hooks piercing all the way through his skin, and the extreme pain he was going through, the last word of the book rings true. Dean's first word in hell, one that he ends up screaming, I'd bet the entire time, is also, appropriately, the last word in the book. Simply Dean screaming _Samm!_ Because no matter how much pain Dean is in, Sam is still the only thing on his mind."

Sam sat still, his eyes getting wider. It made sense that Dean would scream for him, Sam had even convinced himself he could feel Dean's presence, hundreds of feet below the ground. But the announcer's wording kept making him think. _Sam is still the only thing on his mind_. Sam didn't know how many of their thoughts Chuck had been able to capture (it didn't matter a ton, based on the fact that Chuck editted out most of the dirty things anyways).

"Now, let's talk about some little details here and there that people have picked up on. Favorite moments, anyone?" A ton of hands shot up.

"You there, yes, go ahead." A woman with short black hair stood, turning to face the rest of the audience.

"I think the most overlooked fact is how Dean insists on driving most of the time so he has an excuse not to stare at Sam. He manages to anyways, but it forces him to look away on the occasion. Along with that, how when Sam falls asleep Dean turns off the background music so he can listen to the sound of Sam breathing next to him. I think that's so sweet."

Did Dean actually do that? Sam had no idea. A man stood up next, dressed up like Sam.

"The genie scene showed so much about Dean's feelings for Sam. He never fully told Sam everything that had happened, how Dean had had the perfect girl and the perfect life. Sam did too. But Dean ended up being the selfish one in the end, deciding that the perfect girl wasn't good enough, that he needed _Sam_ , not Carmen. That shows how Dean will always be happier with Sam than any girl. And Dean knows it to, he was thinking it when they last ran in to Lisa and Ben."

What the hell? Dean hadn't told him about so called "Carmen." He'd only talked about what Sam had been like. Not about what Dean had been like. And did Dean actually think that Sam was the end all to beat all? Since when?

"See I think that Dean's actions show it all. How every time Sam's unconscious, Dean always freaks out and holds him, cradles his face and wraps his arms around Sam's body until he wakes up. And how Sam always wakes up because of Dean, kneeling on the ground and running his fingertips over Sam's face. How he'll trace over Sam's features, the scars and dimples and brush Sam's hair away from his face. I think his endearment and worry for Sam are the most precious things."

Yeah, Sam definitely did not remember that ever happening. But if he was unconscious, it figures he wouldn't have known what was going on. But either way, Sam was getting a little freaked out. Sam had no idea about any of these things, but it felt like the crowd was just getting started. He was definitely going to bolt out of here and get a drink soon.

Because some of the stuff they were saying - okay, most of the things they were saying - sounded a lot like a couple. A lot like two people in love. And that would make Sam and Dean a couple. A couple?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean stood in silence as the fat one spoke.

"To wake up every morning and save the world. To have a brother that would die for you. Well, who wouldn't want that?"

Dean soaked in the words. He had a point. No matter how much this gig sucked, how much this life sucked, Dean still had Sam.

And that was more than he could ever ask for.

Dean had noticed that the fake Dean and Sam, Barns and Dameon, actually kind of had a good connection going. Their chemistry was no where near his and Sam's, but hey, they at least were acting like a team. Dean complimented them on it, still thinking that Sam's and his connection was stronger than theirs. By a ways. But then came the kicker.

"We're more than friends. We're partners."

Dean looked down at their entwined hands, briefly thinking back to that moment when Sam had grabbed his hand, about a month ago. Barns and Dameon were a couple. Dean had been comparing his and Sam's relationship to a couple. And had thought that his and Sam's relationship was deeper and more intense. Than a gay couple's. 

Dean blinked, looking up. That was it, wasn't it. The reason why these two were the closest thing to actually having Sam and Dean's chemistry. It was because they were in love.

And despite Barns and Dameon being in love, Sam and Dean _still_ managed to beat the two when it came to connection. So did that make Sam and Dean in love too? No, because then they would have equal connections, right? So did he and Sam have something _stronger_ than even a couple had. Dean's face was reading four different levels of HOLY SHIT because that's literally the only thing he was thinking right now.

"Oh." This was fucking crazy. Beyond even being in love. Worse than that. Or better? "Well, uh, howdy partners."

Dean really didn't have anything to say to them, he was too busy staring this parallel in the face. The fake Sam and Dean were a couple. And then there was the real Sam and Dean. And Dean honestly had no fucking idea what was going on between them, because apparently gay love wasn't even a strong enough word to cover it. Holy shit.

But as Dean waited for Sam, his hands propped on the hood of his baby, he couldn't help but keep a smile off of his face. It was just that, Dean had somehow beat the standard again. The strongest word humanity had come up with for a connection wasn't even good enough to describe what he had. And that felt motherfucking great. Even if it was a little scary. Okay, a lot scary.

And now Dean had a mission, he had to figure what this was. If it was stronger than normal love, than what the hell was it? But Dean would figure it out. One way or another.

"You okay?" Dean had felt Sam approaching from a little ways away. Just another sign of this connection thing. Dean couldn't help but smile, wondering how he'd never paid attention to that before, how he just knew things about Sam somehow.

"Yeah. I think I'm good." And he was. Dean was really, really good.


	32. Juxtaposition (Abandon All Hope...  05x10)

Sam was doing his best not to listen to Dean's phone call. He had decided that Dean's relationship with Castiel was not his place to intrude. If Dean was banging the angel on the side, Sam knew Dean would tell him. And they'd work it out from there. So Sam needed to stop being so jealous all th-

"Okay, huggy bear." Sam turned around. What the hell did Dean just say. Did he just call Cas huggy bear? Okay, Sam really didn't wanna know. Dean hung up the phone and pocketed it, turning back around.

"What?" he said, looking at the expression on Sam's face.

"Uh, nothing. It's...don't worry about it." Dean shrugged and open the car door, sliding inside. Sam stood for a moment before joining him, getting in his own seat. Dean hadn't started the car yet, and Sam turned to him. 

"You know I, uh. Cas and I? Don't worry about it, okay?" Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. So Dean had actually caught on to what Sam had been thinking.

"Yeah, okay. I wasn't worried." Dean snorted and turned his head to Sam, shaking his head.

"Liar." 

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but his words were quickly stolen as Dean's mouth covered his. Sam made a soft noise in surprise, which made Dean bite down on Sam's lower lip. Sam leaned forward in his seat, reaching his arm out to Dean's hip, covering it with his hand as a cushion between Dean's hip and the steering wheel. Every other time they'd kissed in the impala (it had only been like twice, maybe, and one of them was before Dean went to hell) Dean had spent the next twenty minutes complaining about how the steering wheel always bruised his hip. So Sam remembered, and put his hand in the way of the tough leather. Dean made an appreciative sound into Sam's mouth, and Sam's tongue swirled around it, his head starting to spin. 

After a minute or two of sliding lips, Dean finally pulled back. He kept his hands on the back of Sam's neck for a moment, leaning his forehead against Sam's to catch his breath. Sam watched the flutter of Dean's eyelashes and the moment of parted lips as he got his breathing back to normal. This part was just about as good as actually kissing Dean. Sam wondered how many people got to see this side of Dean, the beautiful, exhausted, happy side that came so rarely. 

But the moment was ended too quickly, as Dean pulled away with a slightly insecure side smile, turning back to face the road and starting the engine. The impala roared to life and Sam settled back in his seat, fingertips ghosting across his lips as he closed his eyes and smiled. This was going to be a nice ride.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Today was going good so far, they had the Colt, they had Crawley's whereabouts, Cas and Ellen were in a drinking competition, no one was bickering, even Sam and Cas seemed to be getting along great. Dean had his foot wrapped around Sam's ankle underneath Bobby's desk as they talked over the plans for Carthage. There wasn't much room under this desk anyways, and so they might as well entangle their legs. Besides, it was a bit cold, and Dean could use all the extra warmth he could get.

"Sam Winchester, having trust issues with a demon. Better late than never." Sam's face lit up in a twisted smile.

"And thank you again, for your continued support."

"You're welcome." They clinked their beers together, Dean chugging his down with a happy feeling in his gut. They could talk about this now, and joke about it, and it was great. Sam wasn't even getting too butthurt as Dean explained the plan, and explained how Sam couldn't go. He knew he'd protest, though, so Dean was ready for that. But he hadn't prepared an answer for the whole relationship card.

"Haven't we learned a damn thing? If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it together." Dean looked up at Sam. They'd agreed, made a pact, decided they were team when it came to hunting. And Sam had a point. Dean didn't like the idea of leaving Sam alone, but he also couldn't imagine losing him. And if Sam went, he'd be in danger. And Dean wanted to do anything he could to prevent that.

But Sam's face was a mix between desperate, really really worried, and adorable. So Dean huffed, picking up his beer.

"Okay. That's a stupid freaking idea." Sam raised an eyebrow at that. Dean didn't want to pick a fight here, but protecting Sammy was always number one. 

Loud laughter from across the room caught both of their attention, and Sam unraveled his legs from Dean's, turning around to see a few heads turning away from them. Dean was immediately worried, thinking maybe some people had taken their private conversation and physical juxtaposition the wrong way. 

"Boy, talk about stupid ideas." Sam was leaning back in his chair now, trying to add some distance between them.

"Good god. True that." Dean stood up and walked around the desk, knowing that Sam knew he was referring to both Cas and Ellen's drinking game, and what he was about to do. He and Sam thought alike, so Sam didn't have any concern on his face as Dean made his way over to Jo. 

They really didn't need any staring or rumors regarding their relationship right now, and nobody here besides Cas knew half of the stuff that had gone down between Sam and Dean, and they both would highly like to keep it that way. So here goes Dean's charade, playing up to Jo and flirting his way out of incestuous judging.

"Hey," Dean said, a little awkward. Sam never really minded (that much) when Dean flirted with girls, and they'd both slept with other people (because they weren't in a relationship, and they hadn't slept together) and it wasn't really a problem between them. But Dean still hadn't done this in a while, at least, not with a girl. It was different when he flirted with Sam though, that was teasing. But the lack of recent use of his flirting skills would probably explain why this conversation was going so awkwardly. That and the fact that Dean thought of Jo as a sister. 

Even when he'd been flipped to an alternate universe as Dean Smith, he remembered Jo as his sister. And Sam had told Dean that the possessed Sam had told Jo that's what he thought of her. And well, it was true. She was like a sister. But not in the way that Sam was like a brother. Because Sam had always been more than just a brother, Sammy was his world.

So the flirting turned out awkward and extremely lame, Dean epically failing and even falling for the whole about-to-kiss-you thing. But he wasn't really all that put out when Jo walked away. He hadn't actually wanted to sleep with her, managed to actually not (hooray for awkwardness actually being a good thing for once) have her say yes and _still_ turn away suspicion from him and Sam. Because if Dean wanted a girl, he got her. He was Dean Winchester, that was how it worked. But this time he got exactly what he wanted: just a little sexual tension with Jo and avoiding two very potentially awkward situations.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean wanted more than anything not to have Jo do this, not to have her sacrifice her life for them. As he knelt down to say goodbye, for one last time, there were tears in his eyes.

"Okay, this is it. I'll see you on the other side." Jo smiled weakly at that. "Probably sooner than later."

"Make it later," she said. Dean nodded, taking the gun from her and setting it aside. He gave her the bomb, his hands engulfing hers as he held her hand, giving her as much strength as he could. He looked at her for a moment, she really was beautiful. And she was dying like a hero.

Dean leaned forward and cradled her face, pressing his lips sloppily to her forehead. His little sister, dying this way. Jo was already starting to fade, and Dean knew she didn't have long. He closed his eyes tighter at the thought, his kiss still pressing. When he pulled his lips away, he looked down into her eyes, tilting her face up to him. Sam had told him, and Dean knew, that part of Jo was in love with Dean. And it wasn't like Dean hadn't kissed siblings before. Besides, this was about Jo. It was the least he could do for her, and it wasn't like he hadn't thought about doing it once or twice before.

So Dean slowly put his mouth on hers, kissing her through her tears. It was a gentle and heartbreaking kiss, her lips were soft and wet with tears. Dean let his lips linger for a moment, the two of them connected and both sharing in the same pain. Their lips pulled away from each other with a soft puckering sound and Dean kept his hands on Joe's face, bringing his head to the side and resting it there for a moment, letting her know he was here. And she was strong. And he really did love her.

"Okay," he whispered, pulling away. Dean stood and made his way back to Sam's side before the tears started rolling. Losing Jo was hard. It really was. And especially since she had to go like this. Dean looked down guiltily, blaming himself for this. If Jo hadn't had tried to save him-

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by a strong hand on his lower back. Dean turned to Sam, looking up at him with all of his sadness in his eyes.

"It's not your fault," Sam whispered. Dean looked at him for a moment before putting his head back down and staring at the floor. Sam's hand moved on Dean's back, rubbing it gently to comfort him. Dean knew they'd talk more about this later, but for now Sam's secure touch was enough to keep him grounded. He leaned his body weight slightly into Sam's arm, fighting the urge to just rest his head on Sam's shoulder and cry.

They both stood, looking at the mother and daughter that had become family to them. This was another one of those moments that Dean knew would be engrained in his mind forever. The number of friends he had to bury was endless, but this one hurt like a jab to the stomach. Because this, this was family. And sacrifice. And with Ellen's last words, Dean would remember them forever.

"Don't miss."


	33. Asunder (Sam, Interrupted  05x11)

When Dean turned around the doctor was right there, his hand reaching out to Dean's arm. Dean looked at it suspiciously, then looked at the doctor suspiciously. The doctor's arm dropped, but his finger came up to point at Dean.

"Actually, I'm going to be putting you in the afternoon group."

"What?" Dean's voice sounded torn, not really on purpose, that's just how it came out. He looked over at Sam, desperately. "Why?"

"Well, to be frank, the relationship that you have with your brother seems...dangerously codependent." Dean tilted his head, soaking in those two words. Dangerously codependent? Who the hell did this guy think he was? "I think a little time apart will do you both good."

The doctor turned around, and Sam made an extreme bitch face at him, like his "what the hell is wrong with you" face. Uhmm, what if the doctor was right. The first thing Dean had done when the doctor said he couldn't go with Sam was internally freak out and look over at his brother. That wasn't exactly normal brotherly behavior he supposed. Although a lot of what he and Sam did wasn't normal, so hey. Whatever, right?

Sam looked to Dean, clearly annoyed with the doctor, but a little confused as well. Maybe he was thinking the same thing Dean was. But based on how he wasn't freaking out about freaking out about being separated for twenty minutes, probably not. 

Dean just raised his eyebrows, telling Sam what he wanted to hear, that the doctor was a little cuckoo. Then he raised a hand in goodbye, his face sinking as Sam walked away. He felt weirdly empty and cold all of a sudden. Goodness, when was the last time Dean had been asunder from Sam? Dean realized he didn't exactly remember, but it had to have been a little while ago. 

Dangerously codependent. Codependent - relying on, not being able to function without; the tendency to behave in overly passive or excessively caretaking ways, an undetachable relationship. Well, Dean definitely did not do a good job at functioning without Sam. And he supposed the rest of the stuff was a little true too. Okay, a lotta true. 

This keeps on coming up, this whole, more than brothers, more than love, more than anything we've got a name for besides "dangerously codependent." But that was a negatively connotated word. Dean needed a better one. A positive one. A good one. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The door suddenly creaked open and Sam looked over to it, seeing a blue person standing there, asking him if he was okay. Hey, that was Dean's voice. Dean was here! Dean stepped up closer and Sam had to turn his head away to not get blinded to death by two green green green eyes.

"No, no, I'm not okay," He stared at the wall, thinking about green. "I am awessommee."

"They give you something?" Sam looked back at Dean for a moment, Dean, standing so tall, how did he get tall? Dean was short. Dean had to stand on his tiptoes to kiss Sam. Sam giggled at that, explaining to Dean how great he felt.

"You always were a happy drunk." Mmm, drunk. Sam bet if he got Dean drunk he could do some wonderful things. Sam reached out for Dean's arm, pulling him down to his bedside. Now Dean was at Good Distance, because now Sam didn't feel like there was an ocean between them, a whole ocean, complete with sand and pretty birds and-

"Sam," Sam snapped back, looking up at Dean's face. Suddenly Good Distance was not enough and Sam reached up with his other arm, gripping Dean's shoulder and pulling him closer. Dean glanced at the hand on his shoulder before looking back at Sam. Wow green. That was a lot of green.

"Green what, Sam?" Sam blinked in surprise. Dean could read his mind? Or maybe he said that out loud.

"You. Your eyes, they're so pretty Dean, so pretty, I want to look into them every day all the time it always drives me crazy, makes me want to-" Sam trailed off, his eyes drifting downwards to Dean's lips. Sam brought one of his hands off of Dean's shoulder and to Dean's lips, touching them gently like they might break. Dean started to pull away, but Sam's grip on his other shoulder was still firm. Dean brought one of his hands off where he was leaning on Sam's bed, brought it up to Sam's wrist and gently pulled his hand away from Dean's mouth.

"Sam? Let's finish talking about this tomorrow, okay? When you're feeling better." Sam shook his head, his gaze refusing to move from the plump pink lips in front of him. 

"I don't want to talk Dean, I want you to do other things with your mouth." Sam giggled again. That sounded so dirty, although Sam had only meant for Dean to kiss him. But then he remembered, back when Dean had done other things once. Back when he was Dean _Smith_. Smith, hahaha, that was a funny last name.

"Mr. Smith," Sam snickered, not noticing the epic bitch face Dean gave him. "Are you going to kiss me now?"

Dean sighed and put his head down. His hair was fluffy. Sam wanted to run his fingers through it, so he did. Dean looked back up at Sam, more green. Always green. Then Dean's mouth was on his and Sam made a happy sound. Dean, dean, dean. That's all Sam could think. Just that one word.

All too soon Sam felt empty. Why did he feel empty?

"Empty," Sam murmured, bringing his hand to his lips and opening his eyes when he realized Dean wasn't there. Dean was staring at him, like he'd just said something really crazy. It wasn't _that_ crazy. Sam felt empty a lot, almost every time he stopped touching Dean.

"I miss you." Sam blurted out, reaching out for Dean's arm again. Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

"I'm right here, Sam." 

"No, Dean, I miss you. Every time you're more than three feet away from me. I miss you. I need to be next to you Dean. All the time." Sam looked up at Dean earnestly, licking his lips and trying not to get too distracted by green.

"And I think you're hiding something, Dean." Dean sighed again and turned his head away. "I learned some stuff. About you. At that convention who-haw thing."

Dean perked up at that, looking back at Sam. 

"About how you screamed my name in hell and how you like to listen to me sleep and lots of other things, that really, actually made you sound like you were my boyfriend. Hehehe, Boyfriend." Sam affectionately stroked Dean's cheek, smiling at his new nickname.

"Um, Sam, how about you get some sleep. I'm gonna go see if I can find that wra-" Dean was cut off as Sam tugged him even closer, making Dean almost fall on top of him on the bed. Sam hand moved down Dean's back, getting dangerously close to his perfect, round ass. But somehow Dean knew, maybe he was reading Sam's mind again, but Dean knew what he was about to do and quickly grabbed Sam's arm, distracting him by mashing their lips together again.

Sam fluttered his eyes open again once he realized Dean had pulled away. Again. 

"I've gotta go, okay? You sober up, man." Dean stepped away from the bed, pulling back out of Sam's reach.

"Deannn, no, don't go. Please, please, don't leave me!" Sam nearly shouted, lunging forwards in the bed. Dean rushed forward again instantly, shhing Sam and soothing his hands over Sam's hair and his chest. 

"Sammy, I'll be right back, okay? I promise." Sam swallowed and nodded, his fear gone now that Dean promised.

"Pinky promise?" Dean stuck out his pinky and Sam took it in his own, latching on to it. He stared at their hands for a second, how their fingers were entwined, kind of anyways, then Dean's hand was gone and he was a couple feet away again. Dean had his hand on the doorknob when Sam decided he was going to tell Dean.

"Dean?"

"Sammy, I've gotta go."

"Dean, I love you." Dean froze with his hand on the doorknob. He turned his head for a moment, looking at Sam's watering eyes. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, making Sam really really want to suck on the skin there. There was silence for another few moments before Dean cleared his throat and looked at the ground. 

"Okay, Sam. We'll talk about it later." Then Dean was gone and Sam sat in silence for a moment again, thinking _empty_ and _Dean, I love you._


	34. Abortive (Swap Meat  05x12)

Sam turned on the water, stepping into the temporary heat before it faded into normal hypothermic motel shower water. He ran his fingers through his hair, flattening even longer now that it was wet. Sam's body felt good to be in, but it was still extremely dirty. Gary apparently didn't have time to shower himself over the past day and a half. 

The water pressure wasn't even that bad, surprisingly, and Sam closed his eyes as it pattered down on his face. He reached for the soap, lathering down his body and taking a moment to appreciate the muscles and defined lines. Sam had really really missed this body. He was mostly appreciative, though, of the strength he had back. Being physically abortive had sucked a lot.

When Sam stepped out of the tiny bathroom, Dean was sitting propped up on a bed, beer in hand. He looked up at Sam, a single towel swung low on his hips and his skin glistening with water droplets, and Dean's eyes widened before he looked down comically and took a huge swig of alcohol. Sam pretended to ignore Dean's reaction, stepping over to his bag and bending over to rummage for clothes. Dean made a choked gurgling sound behind him. Sam turned back around quickly at the sound.

"You okay?" Dean nodded tensely and looked down at the bottle in his head. Sam didn't push it any further, just reached back into his bag, finally finding the sweats he was looking for. It was pretty chilly outside, and kinda cold in the motel room, but Sam knew he'd have plenty of extra body heat next to him tonight, so he didn't bother finding a shirt. Besides, he was still in appreciative mode for his new body.

Sam considered walking back into the bathroom to get dressed, but decided the tininess probably wouldn't allow for his long legs. So Sam stepped over to the entry table, in front of the flower print wall divide thingie*. Almost every motel room had one, some with big awkward circle designs, others with metal outlines of flowers. Sam had no idea what the point of them was, you could see between them just fine, it had more space to look through than to not. So he knew Dean could still see him clearly, but at least it showed that he wasn't trying to start anything, and that he wanted to give Dean the option to not watch. But as Sam dropped the towel and slipped his feet through his boxers, he was 99% sure that Dean was staring at his bare ass. He could practically feel the gaze hot on his back, but it wasn't anything Dean hadn't seen before. They'd gotten dressed in front of each other before, just not recently. Like, not since the apocalypse. Hell, not since Dean got back from Hell.

Sam slipped into his sweats too, grabbing the discarded towel and taking it back to the bathroom. Now he stepped back out again, making his way over to Dean this time. Dean had his eyes closed tightly, and Sam reached out to touch his arm. Dean jumped, his eyes flashing open and looking at Sam before quickly looking away again.

"Dude, you scared me." Dean said, his eyes on his beer bottle. Sam laughed lightly and apologized, walking around to the other side of the bed. They didn't claim beds much anymore, because they both just slept together now. Some nights, on opposite sides of the mattress, facing opposite walls. Other nights, back to back to share warmth. Sometimes they'd just lay next to each other, both staring up at the ceiling. Then, on Sam's favorite nights, they'd wrap themselves up in each other, fitting their bodies together like they were made to do just that. Sam's arm around Dean, Dean's foot wrapped around Sam's ankle. Arms thown over chests and hips and stomachs, faces pressed up against skin, their bodies rising and falling in sync as they breathed.

Sam crawled up onto the bed, shuffling over to Dean's side. He spared Dean the trouble of fighting not to look at him, and scooted to make his body diagonal to Dean's. Dean set his drink down on the bedside table. Sam laid down, curling on his side and carefully resting his head on Dean's lap. Dean's breathing was shaky, but he managed to slow it a bit as he placed a tentative hand in Sam's wet hair. Sam closed his eyes as Dean stroked gently, finger combing the slightly tangled dampness.

"You're gonna get me soaking wet," Dean finally said, his voice low and gravely. Sam attempted a laugh, a quick puff of air huffing out.

"Do you want me to move?" Sam asked, knowing the answer before he asked the question.

"No." There were a few minutes of silence as Dean raked through Sam's hair, his hand sometimes playing with the nape of Sam's neck, his fingertips brushing gently against his damp skin. Although Sam had already drifted into a content state of mind, he finally spoke.

"So how did you know the Gary wasn't me?" Sam asked, bringing his hand up to place on Dean's lower thigh. A shutter ran through Dean.

"He, uh. There were a few things. Like, you backed the Impala into a trash can. And then you kept saying weird things. And you ordered a Bacon Cheeseburger. Than we, uh, sat down and had drinks together. It was odd." Sam nodded, his thumb rubbing circles into Dean's leg.

"Who drove the impala home?"

"Uh, I did."

"Drunk? That was pretty risky. You know that's half the reason I don't drink with you. You of all people don't want to crash that car."

"I know, Sammy, but having to drink by yourself just to have a designated driver kinda sucks. But anyways...wait. You said half the reason. What's the other half?" Sam shifted slightly, pressing his head back into Dean's hipbone as he rolled to look up at Dean.

"I, uh. Don't know if I quite trust what might happen if both of us were drunk. I mean, I wouldn't want either of us to do something we'd wake up and regret. It shouldn't be like that, if anything happens, I just. Yeah. So at least one of us should stay fairly sober, you know?"

Dean sat in silence for a moment as Sam turned his head back away from Dean and Dean resumed stroking his hair.

"Yeah, I never really thought about that. You have a point though."

"Of course I have a point." Dean chuffed at that comment, pulling slightly at Sam's hair. 

Sam was definitely not expecting that, or the jolt of arousal it sent through his body. He moaned involuntarily, then froze, recognition dawning on him. Dean was frozen too, his fingers tangled in between strands. Sam wasn't sure if Dean was going to freak out and dart, or just sit there frozen. But he didn't do either, suddenly coming back to life and bringing his hand underneath Sam's head, lifting him up. Sam sat up in surprise, Dean's hand still on his hair. 

"You like that, Sammy?" Sam's whole body tightened at the words as he stared at Dean's eyes. They were green, even in the near darkness of the motel room. Sam suddenly had a flashback, _sitting in a white room, the mental asylum, looking at Dean's green eyes and saying, "Dean, I love you." And hearing Dean's reply, "Okay Sam. We'll talk about it later."_ Why hadn't Dean told him about that? Dean had said they had doped Sam up on drugs, and Sam remembered a vaguely blurry image of a conversation, at least until now. Now he remembered that part crystal clear. 

Dean must have noticed the sudden change in Sam's expression, because his hand moved down to cup Sam's cheek, leaning his head in closer to Sam's.

"Hey, you okay? I just lost you there for a moment." Sam blinked back into reality, looking at Dean.

"Yeah, yeah. 'M fine. It was nothing, just weirdness from the past day." Dean nodded and leaned back against the headboard again. Sam laid back down on Dean's lap, this time laying on his back, looking up at Dean.

"So how else did you know it wasn't me? Just drinking with you probably didn't seal the deal." Dean sighed and nodded, his hand now laying on Sam's chest, over his heart. Dean was looking off to the distance, which gave Sam a moment to study his features in the darkness.

"Yeah, you, uh. You went home with this girl in the bar." Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I did what?"

"Yeah, you left with some blond chick. Classy lookin, too. Not the hooker type really. Left me sittin at our table alone." Dean spoke the last words slowly, like he was trying to keep emotion out of them. Sam reached up his hand and put it over Dean's heart.

"You know I'd never strand you like that, right? You knew it then too, and that's how you figured it out." Dean nodded, looking down at Sam. Sam smiled softly back at him."At least Gary didn't try to sleep with you. That would've been extremely upsetting."

Dean snickered, turning his gaze back to the wall in front of him.

"And so I set up a sleeping body and waited for yo- Gary, to come. He picked up my gun, first off, _my_ gun, and aimed it at me, hesitating and holding it weird. I know how you hold your gun, and even if I didn't, I knew you wouldn't ever shoot me. Let alone with my back turned in my sleep. So I ambushed him and knocked him out cold."

"Which is why there is a slight bruise forming on my jaw. That makes sense, yeah. Thanks." Dean shrugged lightly, tapping his fingers on Sam's chest.

"You'll be fine."

"No I won't." Dean looked down, amused at the pouting Sam. They both knew Sam wasn't in pain, but both played along.

"Alright, where's it hurt?" Sam pointed to the side of his jaw.

"There."

Dean leaned down and turned Sam's head to the side, kissing his jaw gently. A shiver went through Sam at the extremely sensual contact. Dean noticed, but didn't say anything, lifting his head back up but keeping his face six inches above Sam's.

"Where else?" Sam pointed to the bottom edge of his cheekbone, staring up at Dean. 

"There." Dean turned Sam's head again, pressing another kiss to Sam's cheek, this one just as gentle, but a little bit longer. Then Dean pulled back expectantly, looking at Sam.

"There," Sam whispered this time, his hand coming up to brush his own lips. Dean's eyes were locked on them, and he closed the gap between their mouths, kissing Sam's lips just like how he'd kissed his jaw and cheek, closed mouth and soft. He just kept his mouth on Sam's for a moment, eventually pulling back without having furthered the kiss any.

Sam was dizzy, which was odd, it was just a single kiss, and a kindergarden one at that, but it made his head swirl. Sam shut his eyes tightly closed, trying to regain his grip on the world.

"You just quoted Indian Jones." Dean said smugly.

"Yeah I know. But you were Marian." Dean chuffed at that and Sam opened his eyes, grinning up at him. Dean slid his hands underneath Sam's head and shoulders, picking him up and sliding him off of his lap, rotating his body so Sam ended up on the mattress next to Dean. 

"No more lap privileges for you."

Sam began to protest, but then Dean slid to lying down, his body now flat against the mattress as he turned to Sam. Sam loved Dean from this angle, where it was just the two of them, heads resting on the same pillow, just simply looking at each other. They stayed that way for a while before Sam brought his arm under the covers and wrapped it around Dean's waist, pulling him in closer. But instead of going for a kiss, Sam pulled Dean into his chest, letting Dean's head rest on him as he put his other arm behind Dean. The hand that had grabbed Dean's waist now loosened it's grip as he settled it on Dean's stomach, hitching up underneath Dean's tshirt. Dean closed his eyes, letting Sam hold him and simply deciding to fall asleep.

"G'night, Dean." Sam said softly, turning his head to whisper the words into Dean's hair.

"Mm, g'night Sammy." Dean drifted off to sleep quickly, and Sam lay awake for a long time, just watching his brother sleep. He didn't know how long he'd get to watch this, and he was going to take every advantage of his beautiful brother. Which definitely included his sweet, peaceful sleeping side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The divider thingie that's in all their rooms, like so: http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/images/0/05/4.12_divider.jpg


	35. Acutely (The Song Remains the Same  05x13)

Castiel wasn't surprised when he learned of Anna's plan. He appreciated her surprise though, especially when it came to killing Sam.

"The answer's still no." Anna had a very valid point. If they could find a way to destroy Sam entirely, Lucifer could be stopped. Possibly. 

But Castiel knew that Dean would never forgive him, never speak to him again if he let Sam get hurt. And even if Dean was out of the picture, Castiel's grudges against Sam had faded considerably. So while the majority of the reasons for protecting Sam revolved around Dean, he did still mean his next words.

"Because Sam is my friend." The words felt good to say. Friend. It meant camaraderie, more than just allies, mutual respect and a desire to spend time together. Friend.

"You've changed. You've finally come to terms with your emotions." 

"Maybe too late. But I have." Castiel wasn't sure if Anna was talking about his feelings for Dean or just feelings in general, but based on the look on her face, he assumed the first. He'd said maybe too late, because it might have been with Dean. Dean was with Sam now, but maybe if Castiel had changed earlier, been there for Dean earlier, maybe he wouldn't be the one who had to call Dean everytime he wanted to talk. Sam could just turn his head, and Dean would be there. Maybe it wasn't too late though, there was still hope for the future. The far future, but still the future.

Anna shot off after Castiel's final warning. Now Castiel had to find her, before she could cause any damage. But he figured that Dean and Sam would like an update first. It was best they knew that Anna was out to kill Sam.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Castiel already knew where Dean and Sam were, still at their motel, but he decided it was probably best to materialize just outside their door. He'd made the mistake of materializing in the room before, and had accidentally witnessed a post-shower Dean, just clad in shorts, with his mouth on Sam's. Sam had Dean pressed up against the wall, and neither noticed him until he cleared his throat. They'd shot away from each other, Dean yelling at him, exacerbated, to not just materialize without a warning. Not wanting to have to deal with that awkwardness again, Cas jumped to outside the motel door and knocked like any other human would.

He could quite clearly make out the shuffle of sheets, and then Dean was at the door, swinging it open wide. 

"Hey, Cas, what's up?" Castiel walked into the room, taking in the minor wreck of the bed and Sam's slightly disheveled hair as he sat on the edge of it. Sam gave him a quick nod and smoothed his hand down over his hair, trying to make it go back to normal. Cas would say it was odd they were in the bed at ten in the morning, but he also knew that neither of them got much sleep at night, and a nap was probably a fairly good way to pass the time.

"It's Anna. She's planning to kill Sam." Castiel explained the story, Sam's face worried and contemplative, while Dean paced the room angrily. Castiel's eyes flicked down involuntarily as Dean turned around to walk to Sam. He didn't mean to watch Dean's body, it just kind of happened. Castiel snapped out of it though, as Sam spoke up.

"So, the plan to kill me, would it actually stop Satan?"

"No," the word was out of Dean's mouth before Sam even finished his sentence. "Sam, c'mon."

Sam acknowledged Dean with the slightest movement of his head, his facial expression saying that Dean's answer meant very little in this situation because he knew exactly what Dean would always say. 

"Cas, whaddu you think? Does Anna have a point?" Dean's eyes were filled with pain as he dragged them from his brother to Cas. Castiel looked at Dean, and saw the warning glare in his eyes. Castiel knew that Sam needed to hear a certain answer, but Dean needed it even more than Sam did.

"No." Castiel said the word, but wasn't sure how true it was. He glanced at Dean again, appreciative now, and looked down, trying not to think about Dean's lips. "She's uh, Glen Close."

Sam was disappointed, but relieved. He wanted it to be that easy, to sacrifice himself for his brother. And the world. But simply killing Sam, there was always the possibility of Lucifer bringing Sam back from the dead.

Castiel bent over the spell, saying the final words. He reeled back as information flooded his mind. When he turned to Dean and told him the year, Sam instantly bolted off the bed, standing in his usual position behind Dean. Dean hardly even noticed, he was so focused on 1978. Dean watched Cas as he approached them, explaining.

"Anna can't get to you because of me. So she's going after them." Dean stared at Cas, and Castiel was finally close enough to see his freckles.

"Take us back." Cas knew it would come to this, that they would insist upon going. He also knew that if Dean pushed hard enough, Cas would do it. But that meant a lot of things, one of them being that Castiel might die. The trip could strip his vessel from usage for months, it could paralyze him or shatter him into a million pieces. But if Dean wanted this, Cas would do it. Dean was one of his only purposes for living anymore, and he could do this for him. Besides, Sam did deserve to know the truth and have a chance to stop his future. 

So he placed his fingers to their foreheads, white light ripping inside him. Castiel felt like his insides were being shredded. But he fought the pain, holding on to the thought of Dean to get him through. It was pointless he knew, to try to relive past memories, but he also found that happy thoughts could cure a lot of things. Learning that had taken a while, but now he resorted to happy thoughts when he needed to.

He was still fighting it when he felt warmth on his chest and fluttered open his eyes, acutely feeling Dean's hands on him. He also felt Dean's worry, and his desperate call for Castiel.

"I'm fine," Cas managed to stutter out, breathing heavily and trying to make Dean believe it. Dean's hands were on his arm now, and Sam had a grip on his trenchcoat. Castiel looked up, meeting eyes with both of them. "I'm much better than I expected."

Pain seared though him again and Castiel lost his ability to sit up, falling over to the side and coughing out blood. Dean's grip on his arm tightened as he tried to pull Cas back up. It was the last thing he felt before everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam was busy observing the people when Dean came back out of the hotel. He tried to make a joke, but Dean was still pretty shaken by Castiel's condition. Dean had carried Cas to the motel, and probably all the way to his room, insisting that he didn't need help. Sam had decided to wait outside, not wanting to awkwardly stand by as Dean took care of Castiel.

"So I paid for Cas for five nights, up in the uh, Honeymoon Suite." Sam wasn't really surprised, that was something Dean would do. "Told the manager, do not disturb no matter what, do you know what he said to me?"

Sam nodded for Dean to continue, noticing that Dean's voice was a little bit faster than normal, which meant he was hiding how freaked out he was.

"Don't sweat it. Wanna buy some dope?" Sam huffed out a mix between a laugh and annoyance. "Dope. We may to stick around here and buy some stock in Microsoft."

"We may have to if Cas doesn't recover." Dean's entire body deflated at those words, his face suddenly sinking with fear. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam, before looking at the ground.

Sam trailed his eyes down Dean's body, then back up, twice. He wasn't checking out Dean, (although he had done that once or twice) more like he was trying to get a read on how beat up about this he was. His feet were spread in fighting mode, and his hands were subconsciously clenched, but his shoulders were tilted down in desperation. Dean was definitely not okay.

"Is he alright?" Sam was pretty sure Dean caught on to both of his questions, "Is he alright" and "Are you alright?" And based on his sassy answer, the question Sam had said out loud had the answer of no.

"What do I look like, doctor angel medicine woman?" Sam's eyebrows were furrowed with worry, and he tilted his head and blinked. Asking the second question again with his eyes. "He'll wake up. He's, you know, tough for a little nerdy dude with wings."

Sam shifted his weight, the worry rolling off his shoulders. Dean had hope, which was a rare thing, and Sam wasn't going to push this anymore and make Dean lose that hope. Sam sincerely did hope that Cas was okay, and for a lot more reasons than just getting them back to 2010 or for helping with the apocalypse. Castiel was turning out to be a lot better than Sam originally thought, and he'd come to terms with everything, so Cas was like a friend now. And Sam hoped it stayed that way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam could still hardly believe that he got the opportunity to talk to his father again. It didn't matter than John didn't know Sam was his son, what mattered was that Sam got to say this. There were tears in his eyes as he confessed, confessed everything.

"My dad died before I got the chance to tell him, that. I understand. And I forgive him. For what it did to us." 

For what it did to Dean and him. How it twisted them into soldiers, broke them and destroyed them, but somehow, also twisted them into each other. The way John had raised them made Sam and Dean depend on nothing but each other, which in turn lead to a deeper, more intense relationship. Their childhood twisted their adulthood into desperately needing each other. Sam didn't entirely blame John for the way he felt about Dean, although he knew that he wouldn't love Dean like this if it wasn't for the way they were raised. Dean had actually seen it too, back when he had been zapped into an alternate universe by the genie. Dean had seen them broken apart, never being anything more than just brothers. Had seen that life. And Sam thought that this one, the one that was real, was much better than that. So he had forgiven John, stopped being angry for making him feel this way about his brother. He forgave him for what it did to them.

"And I just, I. I love him." Sam did. He loved his father, as any son should. He missed him, John was his family and he was gone. But Sam knew his thoughts were still on Dean, and his mind drifted that way. Sam didn't love Dean like he loved his father. Sam should, but he didn't. 

How Sam saw Dean, it was like the way Mary looked at John. It was a deep and fiery love, one that Sam had fought for so long. But now, seeing his parents together, Sam was finally beginning to believe in something.

Sam wasn't sure if true love really existed, if happiness could be for those who saw what was truly in the world. Sam had never seen a happy hunter before, or even ex-hunter, but Mary was. She had actually found true love, and she held on to it with every ounce of her being. Watching her watch John, that's when Sam knew. He knew that's how he felt about Dean, that he would hold on to him with every ounce of his being. Dean was his everything, and he couldn't ever leave him.

Sam sat in silence on the couch for a moment, tears still in his eyes. This was it, wasn't it? The moment that changed everything. Because now he was sure. More sure than Sam had been in his entire life. 

Sam loved Dean. Sam was in love with Dean. With every ounce of his being.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael hadn't met Dean yet, but he knew a lot about him. He knew how Dean felt about Sam, and he also knew that was all the leverage he would need. He wasn't surprised that Dean didn't even consider talking to Michael before pointing a finger at Sam first.

" _Fix him_." Demanding, like a child. But Michael knew Dean would take off once Sam was better, and they needed the privacy right now.

"First, we talk. Then I fix your darling little Sammy." Michael reveled in Dean's glare, as the last four words hit home. "Your darling little Sammy." Michael had heard rumors, about an infatuation with each other between the two brothers. A romantic notion, and Michael figured he'd bring it up off the bat, let Dean know he knew. Because that's exactly what his brother was to him: his darling. And more importantly to Dean, _his_. Michael began his speech, but Dean was resistant. Michael could use Sam though, he could get what he wanted that way. Michael walked over to Sam, looking down at him.

"You know, my brother, I practically raised him. I took care of him in a way most people could understand," besides Dean. Dean understood perfectly. "I still love him."

Dean looked at Michael, his thoughts wild. _You don't love him like I love Sam. Because I couldn't kill Sam. I love Sam more than you love your brother, and you wanna know why? Because I love him more than a brother. I love him more than that._ Michael looked over at Dean, not surprised that the human confused brotherly love for romantic. But when he looked in Dean's eyes, Michael was taken aback for a moment. Dean wasn't lying to himself. It was true. Dean actually was in love with his brother.

Michael looked back at Sam, wondering if he felt the same way. Then a chill ran through him as he realized, this would make the plan much more difficult. If their love really was a powerful as legend portrayed it to be, Michael was in trouble. He just hoped that one would get a broken heart, because that was really the only way to break a bond that strong. Dean and Sam might be able to put up a fight if they were _in love_. Well, this threw a major curveball in the plan.


	36. Idiosyncratic (My Bloody Valentine   05x14)

"Remarkably patronizing concern, duly noted. Nothing's wrong. We gonna work or what?" Dean sat back down, lips wrapped around his beer bottle. Sam scrunched up his nose and looked Dean over, probably staring a little creepily. But really? Since he was a little kid, Sam could remember Dean always had some master plan up his sleeve for picking up women on Valentine's Day. It was Dean's _thing_. 

Until this year, apparently.

He was trying to keep the blatant worry off his face but it was hard. There was no way that nothing was wrong with Dean. No way. Sam looked back down at his computer, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip being pinned between his teeth. He couldn't even focus on the screen, it was like his entire body was only interested in whatever the hell was wrong with Dean. His hands were itching to reach across the table and grab ahold of one of Dean's, figure our what the hell was up. 

"Are you su--"

"Yes, Sam, I'm _fine_ , okay?" Dean interrupted. Sam met Dean's eyes over the top of the computer screen as Dean took another drag of his beer. He probably shouldn't say it, but...

"Fine as in Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional?" Sam winced a little as he said it, already anticipating the bitching retaliation. Dean popped his drink out from between his lips, scooting his chair back in a swoop and standing up. Then he was walking around the table to Sam and Sam through his hands up in defense and surrender. "Okay, okay --"

Sam's protests got cut off as Dean's wet mouth landed squarely on his open one, instantly twisting down on Sam's lips as his fist curled into the dollar of Sam's jacket. Sam was frozen in surprise for a moment before he let himself drift his eyes closed, kissing Dean back and reaching up a hand to Dean's lower back. 

He splayed his fingers over the natural curve, careful not to stray too low to places he didn't have permission to go. Dean kissed Sam passionately, his mouth eager and insistently tilting more for a better angle. Even if Dean's mouth hadn't been opening and closing in time with his, covering and sealing his lips, Sam probably still wouldn't have been able to breathe. 

It was like Dean was kissing him almost desperately, but not the sad sort of desperate they shared occasionally after a dangerous hunt or epic scare. It was like a passionate, hungry sort of kiss. There was sparks in between their hot, wet open mouths, the kiss deep and so goddamn intense. And it made every fiber of Sam's body light up with fireworks. 

Eventually Dean pulled their lips apart, with the same soft pop of his bottle leaving his mouth. Sam blinked his eyes back open, his lips still parted and jaw dropped a little in surprise. It took every bit of willpower he had not to reach up and run a thumb over Dean's bottom lip, feeling the reddened plump tissue move under his touch. But Dean would probably kill him. 

Dean straightened back up from the way he had been bent over to kiss the still sitting Sam, his hand uncurling from the tight fist he had in Sam's collar and patting his collarbone once, in that same brotherly fashion Sam had been used to his entire life. 

"See, that's how okay I am. Capeché? Now will you leave me be?" Dean walked back casually to his chair, sitting normally and scooping up his beer again. He took a drink and spun the computer back around to face him, typing something and looking altogether more calm and collected than Sam had seen him in...he couldn't even remember.

Like they hadn't just made out and like Dean hadn't ditched an entire town full of lonely women and a chance at free sex and a warm bed in some place nicer than their shitty motel room. And he was so goddamn okay with it all, like none of it was a big deal. He looked calm...content even. Actually entirely satisfied for once, his face in a simple smile that said all was right and easy in his world. 

Yeah, something was absolutely definitely 100% off. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Castiel was surprised when Sam called to him, but he went regardless. Dean was still sitting at the hospital to stake out the demon coming to retrieve the mortician's soul, and Cas had left to grab another burger or twelve, when he faintly heard Sam's voice praying to him. Castiel went immediately, appearing in front of Sam, chained to the bathroom sink of their motel.

"Hello Sam." Cas stuffed another bite into his mouth. "What is troubling you? Besides the urge to indulge yourself in poisonous toxicity again?"

Sam squinched up his face in annoyance but shrugged it off and just sighed, defeated.

"It's not me. Well, there is the while demon blood thing, but uh. It's Dean I'm worried about," Sam confessed. Even if Cas didn't automatically perk up at Dean's name, the tone of voice the younger Winchester used would be enough to catch his attention. Cas looked up from his burger, then looked back down quickly, failing horribly to attempt to hide his sudden enthusiasm for being of service just because Sam's freckled brother was mentioned.

Whether Sam noticed or not, he spared Cas - well, probably both of them - the awkwardness of mentioning it and just continued his plight instead.

"Dean's been acting strange, like, really idiosyncratic. I, uh, I'm not sure if it's famine or something else, but I'm pretty worried. Can you talk to him?" Castiel watched Sam's crinkled forehead, his eyes pleading with concern. Whatever this was, Sam was _very_ shaken up about it.

"What exactly are you defining as strange?" Sam shifted his eyes awkwardly, shuffling a bit and wincing at the metal on his wrists. Or maybe at the practically palpable awkwardness of this conversation. 

"Well, uh, first off, Valentine's Day has always been Dean's favorite holiday. And this year, he decided he wasn't going to go out like he always has. I mean, no matter what's going on, Dean would _never_ pass up on that opportunity. And he seemed kind of offended when I asked why not. He said he just "wasn't up to it." Then he blew me off when I asked what was wrong, you know typical Dean stuff. He just stayed in the motel with me all night instead. Then, in the hospital, he. He said something really out of the ordinary. Like, not his personality at all. Literally something he would _never_ do, especially not as sincerely as he said it."

Sam stopped talking and Castiel crumpled his empty burger wrapper, putting it in the bag and grabbing out the next burger. He managed to stuff the next words in between bites.

"Well what did he say?"

"He asked me to be his Valentine." Sam was staring at the floor. Okay, so Dean was acting a little strange about love, just like some other people in this town. Although it didn't sound quite the same as the other plights. Castiel nodded and motioned his hand for Sam to continue talking.

"And then, at the restaurant, Dean didn't want to eat his food. Which is also on the list of top ten things Dean has never done in his lifetime. He thought it was odd that I questioned him about it, too. He got all defensive, which means he's hiding something. And he hasn't left my side for the past 48 hours, he's been clingily attached, which also isn't like him. Normally it's me who makes a point to be near him, but Dean's been literally at my hip since we got to this town." Cas had actually noticed that. At first, when it was about the love thing they mentioned, Cas figured a Dean might have gotten hit. Although, now that it was famine they were talking about, Dean still might have been. Just, in a really peculiar and mild sort of way. 

"And the way he reacted when he met Cupid? I mean, he was annoyed at the awkwardness, and kept making ridiculous faces and complaining. But the second the guy touched me, Dean flipped out. Remember, "Is this a fight, are we in a fight?" and then "I don't like it." He got all guard dog all of a sudden. Then he got so upset at the idea of someone forcing love on people, he blew a casket and punched the guy. And he already told me he was never going to punch an angel again, due to almost breaking his hand last time."

Castiel shrugged in agreement, his eyes narrowed as he studied Sam's face. 

"Then, after he punched Cupid he had this _look_ on his face and when I asked him if we were gonna talk about what was wrong with him or not, he flipped shit, shouted "or not," and stormed past me. Which is proof that he _knows_ something is wrong with him because he admitted that by saying he didn't want to talk about what was wrong. Not that nothing was wrong." Sam looked confused and tongue tied and generally overwhelmed. It was kinda a rough description of events, but Sam was flustered and starving and Cas understood. That was a lot to go through. 

He squinted and chewed, looking Sam over critically.

"So you think he's hungry for some sort of love thing?" Castiel wiped a bit of ketchup from his lip.

"No, because then he would've jumped on the Valentine's Day hookup thing even more." Sam frowned, clearly clueless. Castiel shook his head, swallowing his bite.

"No, I'm not talking about that. I think Dean's hungry for _love_ , not sex. And, more specifically, it sounds like he's hungry for you. All of this has been revolving around you, right? All the strange behavior? That would make the most sense. And based on Dean's learned ability to repress his feelings for you, it's making it hard for famine to actually do it's work on him. Plus, he already has you, in a few ways. Just not in romantic ones, so that would explain all the odd behavior." Cas considered mentioning their frequent kisses, how Dean had those anytime he liked. But that was still a little sensitive. But the look on Sam's face said he definitely got what Cas was talking about. It wasn't physically hunger, just a mental one. 

And considering the fact that no one else in this town had a mental hunger, it would explain why Dean's hunger seemed so different. He wasn't physically starving for Sam, just a little mentally hungry for a bit of a more romantic relationship. It was kind of endearing, really. And probably the least dangerous or obvious hunger someone could have. 

Actually, it barely even counted. In comparison to demon blood, red meat, twinkles, sex and alcohol, a little longing for romanticism was barely enough to count as of Famine's plan. 

"You know," Cas popped the last bite of this burger in his mouth, chewing and talking. "I think the biggest clue was that he wanted to spend his favorite holiday with you. That's a pretty big one, knowing Dean."

Sam just sat there, his mouth parted in disbelief. It was like the idea of Dean wanting him seemed impossible to Sam. Cas held out his next burger, offering the meat to Sam, but Sam shook his head slightly. He looked down, his eyes darting back and forth as his body fought the internal battle of whether to believe Cas or not.

"But I'll talk to him about it, so no worries, yeah?" Cas flapped off to leave Sam to sort out his emotions. It was a lot to think about. Because it meant that what Dean longed for with Sam was more than just physical. Which meant it was deeper and more important than any of them thought. Castiel would probably be a bit more upset about this if he wasn't so distracted by the deliciousness of red meat. It was simply fabulous.

Castiel reached into his bag to unwrap another burger. Dean turned his head to the passenger seat at the sound. He didn't even jump, which was nice, it was a little insulting every time Dean was so surprised to see him. He just watched Cas for a moment, before turning on his condemning tone.

"Are you serious?" Cas took a bite, savoring it and chewing slowly.

"These make me, very happy." He shook his head in delight, chewing and smiling. Dean sighed, turning back to look at the hospital for three seconds before looking at Cas again.

"How many is that?"

"Lost count. It's in the low hundreds." Dean expression was quite amusing, and he whistled in appreciation. Castiel chewed for another moment before deciding to mention Sam's question to Dean.

"What I don't understand is, what is your hunger Dean?" Dean turned to him again, making the human-confused-noise.

"Slowly but surely, everyone in this town is falling pray to famine. But so far, you seem unaffected." Cas let his eyes sweep over Dean's body with the words, reading his body language and therefore anticipating the response, which was going to be very vague and not at all what he truly meant.

"Hey, when I wanna drink, I drink. When I want sex, I go get it. Same goes for a sandwich, or a fight." Cas loved having conversations with Dean almost as much as he loved hamburgers right now. It gave him an excuse to just look at him. And he was so happy right now anyways, it couldn't get much better than getting to talk to Dean.

"So, you're saying you're just well adjusted?" 

"God no, I'm just well fed." Castiel looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his mouth in a half smile. Dean was cute. 

Although, wait. Well-fed? Cas had seen enough of Dean's childhood, enough of his lifestyle to know he was anything but well fed. Dean spent half of his teenage years hungry and giving what little food available to Sam. Part of Cas secretly wondered if that was why Sam was taller, because Dean gave him all his nutrients as a kid. It made sense. 

But even adult Dean had a habit of jumping on free food, always taking what was available because of the deep-seeded instinct to eat food when he could. Sam didn't share that habit because, as a kid, Sam had never gone hungry. Sam was used to eating enough because Dean always made it that way. So in no way was Dean "well-fed." Shouldn't he be hungry for _everything_? 

Unless, of course, his mental hunger for Sam was ruling out everything else. No one had fallen pray to two hungers, so why should Dean? But if Sam ruled out the bone-deep hunger of _true hunger_ Dean lived with as a habit, then this thing with Sam had to be even bigger than either of them had thought. Castiel chewed his burger for another moment, before deciding he'd push the topic a bit further.

"So then, what is happening between you and Sam?" Dean snapped his head to Cas at that, tilting his head in confusion.

"The spending Valentine's Day with him, asking him to be your Valentine, disregarding your burger in favor for touching Sam's feet with yours. The protectiveness and rather extreme reaction to talking about love, or about what's wrong with you. And how you were so dearly concerned when you learned of his hunger. Although that, I suppose, was to be expected."

Dean was just staring at Cas, and it was probably a full minute before he swallowed and looked down at his hands.

"Are you sure you wanna talk about Sam? I mean, if you're not comfortable, we don't have-" Dean stammered out. Castiel set down his burger, facing his body more towards Dean.

"Dean, I already told you. I'm quite content that you're with Sam now. I don't want to intrude on the special bond you two share. There may be a time when it doesn't work out between you, and if that time comes, our relationship may advance more romantically. But that's probably far in the future, and I don't mind waiting."

Dean stared at Cas, his eyes flicking down to Cas's lips as he recalled a memory, but he quickly shifted his eyes away, looking at the steering wheel before meeting Cas's eyes again.

"Well, uh, I don't think this whole thing with Sam has to do with famine. It's not like I have the urge to eat him or anything." Cas smiled briefly, picking his burger back up.

"It's not always palatable hunger Dean. It's about what you desire most. Is Sam what you desire most?" Dean sat back in his seat, gripping the steering wheel tight for a moment and staring at the windshield. He took a little while to answer, enough time for Cas to finish his burger. He needed another, but he'd wait until they finished talking.

"I don't know, Cas. It's complicated between us, and I just. Everything's been topsy turvy lately and it gets difficult to tell where the boundaries for anything are anymore." Dean looked over at Cas again, looking lost. Maybe it really wasn't famine that was making Dean act like this, he didn't look as desperate as he should. Maybe Dean was advancing his relationship with Sam all on his own and Cas and Sam never considered that. It would explain why it was so mild, at least. But with as strange as it was...it really could have been either way. 

"Well, you don't need to worry about how Sam feels, because I'm fairly sure I can tell you that." Cas opened his mouth to continue to his next few words, but he froze. Cas's eyes jerked away from Dean's as he saw movement behind him.

"Cas? You were saying?" Dean was trying to keep the curiosity and desperation out of his voice but was failing horribly.

"There. There's the demon." Dean turned around, seeing the man with the briefcase walk out of the building. He started the car, pulling out to follow the sedan. He looked at Cas for a brief second.

"We're finishing this conversation later." Dean said it in all seriousness and Castiel nodded, but decided it was best if he actually didn't tell Dean. Dean needed to find out from Sam.

It was quite interesting, the craziness going on between the two of them. Castiel knew a lot more about what was happening than they did, but he figured they'd find out soon enough. That was the thing with humans, you couldn't tell them too much, they had to learn things themselves to actually believe it. Which made everything difficult, but hey, Cas was fine with difficult. So long as it included the occasional hamburger on the way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Castiel watched Dean, watch the screams of Dean's name physically cause damage to his body. Cas could see the pain in his eyes, even from all the way over here. He could see how his body twisted with every shout, watched him reach numbly for the alcohol and put it to his lips, drowning himself in more poison to try to ease the pain. Watched the pop as his lips unpuckered and he pulled the bottle away. Dean closed his eyes, his body rocking slightly like a man who was going crazy.

It wasn't famine doing this to Dean right now, that was for sure. But Dean was still going through probably as much pain as his detoxing brother was, maybe even more. Castiel knew it might not work, but wanted to do anything he could to help.

"That's not him in there." Dean's eyes remained shut, trying to keep out the pain. "Not really."

They opened, and Cas knew if he was standing in front of Dean, he'd be looking at a deadly glare of Dean's inner demon, the Dean that Dean thought was "dead," which is exactly what Dean was without Sam. Dean wasn't dead because of the torture, or because he felt useless, although those were major factors. The final straw was Sam though, Sam kept him alive and Sam kept him human. 

"I know." Dean looked down, his teeth clenched together tightly with pain. Cas's words hadn't helped. He tried again, trying to reason with Dean and make him feel better.

"Dean. Sam just has to get it out of his system. Then he'll be-" Dean interrupted, still not looking at Cas.

"I just, uh." Dean swallowed, his face twisting like there was glass in his throat. "I just need to get some air."

Dean turned away, not once meeting Cas's eyes. Cas's gaze followed the retreating back, his eyes full of pity. Dean didn't deserve this. He was handling it better than Castiel had thought though. It could have been much worse than this.

Castiel waited by the door of the panic room, tuning out Sam's desperate cries. It was a few minutes of silence for Castiel before he heard something, loud and clear. Louder than if someone had been standing next to him and talking in his ear.

"Please." It was Dean. Dean was somewhere, praying. "I can't-" 

Castiel could hear the tears in Dean's voice and he closed his eyes with pain for Dean. 

"I need some help." Castiel felt his eyes get moist, which surprised him. He wiped the back of his hand at his eyelids, trying to dry them internally. The emotion wringing in Dean's voice was enough to kill Cas.

"Please."

Castiel never felt more useless in his life. Dean needed him now, he was _praying_ and he needed Cas. And Castiel could do nothing. He couldn't save Dean's brother. He couldn't save Dean. A single droplet of moisture escaped from Castiel's tearduct and threatened to fall, hovering at the outer corner of his eye. Cas wiped his eye on his sleeve, fabricating himself into space. He waited about two minutes before he appeared again, about ten feet away from Dean, who was still standing in the parking lot.

Dean turned to face Cas, but just put his head down as soon as he saw him. Cas couldn't give Dean what he was asking for, and they both knew it. Dean was disappointed, waiting for some kind of real help.

But none would come, and they both knew that too.

So Castiel walked forward slowly, approaching Dean like a vet would approach a terrified dog. He stopped when he was about a foot away, and Dean lifted his head just a little bit. Tears were streaming clean tracks on his face, and his eyes were watery and as green as ever. Cas took the last step forward, his body almost touching Dean's now. Cas lifted his arms slowly, a little unsure, but put them around Dean, carefully snaking them underneath Dean's arms and around his back. Dean was taller, so Cas figured that he couldn't just throw an arm around Dean's shoulders. 

After a few seconds, Dean seemed to understand what Cas was doing and he responded, lifting his arms and wrapping them around Cas. Dean let his head fall forward, landing it on Cas's shoulder. Cas held still, feeling Dean's body shake as he cried. It only lasted about a minute before Dean calmed himself considerably, his body stilling again before he pulled away from Cas, keeping a hand on Castiel's arm.

Dean nodded his head in a silent thank you, and Cas gave him a tiny smile from half of his mouth. Dean looked down at his feet again, clearing his throat and coughing slightly from all of the tears.

"We should probably go check on him." 

Cas nodded, noticing how wrecked Dean's voice was but deciding not to comment. He remembered though, the last time they stood in this parking lot, with Dean's voice wrecked. Dean had been screaming Cas's name for hours, and it had been back when Cas was still in heaven's control. Dean had been so upset with him, and Cas had tricked Dean into pledging his allegiance to heaven. Castiel felt guilty all of the sudden, and he put a hand on Dean's back as they began walking back to Bobby's house. Dean needed all the support he could get right now. Even if Cas couldn't fix this, at least he could try.


	37. Solicitious (Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid   05x15)

Dean was a already solicitious in the first place, all of this pie everywhere was making him a bit uncomfortable. Not to mention that he was having a heart-to-heart with Bobby's dead wife. As she continues making more pies. She was dead, but she still could make good pie.

"I see it in his eyes when I look at him. The guilt. It weighs on him."

"So why don't you just tell him you remember?" Dean never did understand women. It was a good thing he wasn't planning on a long term relationship with one. Although that thought caught him off guard. So was that what he would do? Spend the rest of his life alone? Or was it just that he wanted a long term relationship with someone who wasn't, well, a woman. Dean shook that thought away, focusing back on the zombie-ish wife. She was looking at him like she was trying to read into his soul.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and say you've never been in love." Ouch. Well, Dean was still trying to figure that one out himself, so technically, she wasn't wrong. He'd certainly never felt strongly about anyone besides Sam, and he didn't even know if what he was feeling was love. Was he in love with Sam? Dean just blinked, not getting why she was bringing this up even in the first place. He was fairly sure when he'd kissed Sam out by the car earlier, they had been out of sight of the house, hadn't they been?

"He's my husband. My job is to bring him peace, not pain." Dean looked away, his mind shouting a thousand different thoughts. That seemed to be all Dean brought Sam, was pain. Sam had peace before Dean had come and screwed up his life. And every moment since, Dean has been doing nothing but bringing Sam pain. Every day. And Sam didn't deserve that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean opened his eyes groggily, taking in the sight of some horribly colored wallpaper of their newest motel. He blinked once or twice, doing a quick recap of yesterday, getting all the zombies with head shots, watching Bobby salt and burn his wife, killing her for the second time, getting in the impala and driving who-knows-where to some motel room. And crashing into bed, dead tired and half asleep by the time Sam put his arm around Dean and pulled him into Sam's chest. Dean had fallen asleep instantly, dead tired and extremely comfortable. But now, he wasn't still nestled into the side of Sam's body, he was sprawled out on the bed, all by himself. 

Dean sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair and looking around the room until he saw Sam, who was sitting at the little table, peeling an orange.

"Mornin'," Dean said, tilting up the corner of his mouth as Sam turned to him.

"Hey," he responded, setting his orange down and standing to walk over to the bed. Sam sat down on the edge, a foot away from Dean. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Nurse Nancy," Dean huffed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Why?"

"Nothing. You just seemed kind of, I don't know, upset yesterday."

"Well yeah, Bobby had to gank the love of his life. Again." Dean cringed at his own words, wishing he had said wife again. Because now there it was again, that word that he couldn't stop thinking about. Love.

Sam just nodded, standing up again and bending down to press a kiss to Dean's temple, which due to Dean's morning disorientedness, made him almost tumble over sideways. Sam laughed, gently stroking Dean's cheek out of affection and walking back over to the table. Dean's eyes followed Sam's ass, which wasn't really intentional, but whatever.

Sam sat down, peeling his orange again.

"You want some pie? I got you some at a bakery down the street this morning." Sam looked up, and Dean looked down to hide the blush in his cheeks. 

"I, uh, had a ton of pie yesterday since Bobby's wife couldn't stop cooking it. So I'll take a raincheck and eat it for lunch." Sam nodded and turned back to his orange. Dean threw the covers off and stumbled into the bathroom, splashing water on his face to fully wake himself up. Then it was his morning routine, brushing his teeth and fixing his hair, throwing on clothes before joining Sam across the table, nestling their knees every-other. Dean grabbed a can of beer and popped the top.

"I vote we take a day off and watch stupid movies or something." Dean said, swigging back a mouthful. Sam looked up, surprised.

"Since when do you drink before 10 in the morning? And since when have you ever wanted a movie day?" Dean just shrugged, taking another drink.

"I don't know. I could use the break. Couldn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then what're you waiting for princess? Let's get this show on the road." Dean stood up and grabbed a six pack container, taking it to the side of his bed. "C'mon, Sammy."

Sam split his orange in half and offered it to Dean, which he unsurprisingly refused, then plopped down next to Dean on the bed. Sam picked up the remote, but Dean took it from him, insisting Sam wouldn't know a good movie from one with Kim Kardashian in it. Sam just said that the remote came with a price, which is how they ended up missing the first five minutes of Silence of the Lambs.

When Dean finally pulled his mouth away from Sam's, Sam mumbled something, still a few inches away from Dean's mouth.

"Can you get second hand drunk by kissing someone?" Dean laughed, pressing another kiss to Sam's lips.

"I don't think so. But you can have a drink if you want." Dean reached for another can of beer and handed it to Sam. Sam shook his head at first, his hair flopping in his face.

"No, remember how I said stuff would happen if we both get drunk?" Dean just opened the top for Sam, pressing it into his hand.

"I won't let anything happen, alright? We'll sleep in different beds or something." 

Sam whined in protest, but took a drink of the beer anyways.

"I know, it'll be lonely, but it'll be worth it for how awesome today'll be." Sam sighed, defeated. Then he leaned over, putting his lips to Dean's neck and pushing his head to the side gently. Dean tilted his head back and moaned, the alcohol in his system making him not afraid of the sound anymore. 

By the time Silence of the Lambs was over and Dean had found The Pledge, _"It's my man, Jack!"_ , they'd both gone through quite a few beers, and the shelf above Dean's bed was stacked with empty cans. It looked like a mess, but neither boy had eyes for much besides each other.

They spent the day wrapped up in each other, nothing but the sounds of the TV and the quiet buzz of alcohol in their minds. Sam fell asleep around 6 p.m, which Dean was so going to give him shit for tomorrow. Dean stayed awake for another hour and a half, watching Sam sleep. 

Dean ran his fingers lightly over Sam's bottom lip, which was parted from his top one. Dean's lips were probably bruised right now, but he really didn't care. He was too busy looking at Sam, trailing his fingertips over all the lines on his face, stroking his lips and cheeks and eyes. Trying to memorize him, keep him forever. Dean knew he couldn't ever bury Sam, not like how Bobby had had too. Dean wouldn't have it inside him, he'd probably end up burying himself with Sam. Without Sam alive, Dean had no reason to be. But he let his thoughts drift to a bit happier ones, just thinking about Sam's features, or the way his face would light up sometimes. Or that gentle, soothing voice that he used with victims or whenever Dean was hurt. The way he'd shout Dean's name, it was always the first word on his lips whenever he was in trouble. Or the way his mouth curved up in a shy smile when he took off his shirt and caught Dean watching him.

Dean wanted it all, wanted to memorize every last piece of it. He didn't know why, he just wanted to.

But eventually the steady in-sync breathing of their bodies was lulling Dean to sleep. He didn't think anything was going to happen tonight, especially with Sam asleep and all, but he still had made a promise.

So Dean reluctantly untangled himself from Sam and rolled off the bed, turning off the TV as he stumbled over to the other bed. He laid down on his stomach, squishing his face into the pillow. He still had a ton of clothes on, Sam did too, but Dean really didn't notice or care. Sleep took him quickly, although there would definitely be a surprise waiting for him when he woke.


	38. Precipice (Dark Side of the Moon  05x16)

It hit him like a tsunami wave to the face. He'd been so confused, looking for a word for it for so long, and now it was just handed to him on a silver platter. His head was reeling, threatening to split into a thousand different pieces and scatter across the globe. 

"Few people share. Special cases, what not." Dean tilted his head at Ash's words.

"What do you mean special?" Dean would forever damn himself for his curiosity, couldn't he have just been content with Ash's previous answer? Ash breathed in before he answered, looking at both boys cautiously.

"Ah you know, like soulmates." It took approximately three seconds for that to soak in, then came the tsunami wave. Dean's body jerked in surprise, and he could feel Sam's body do the same. Ash looked at them both, and Dean tried to ignore how he and Sam just did everything in sync. Again. 

It explained everything, why they shared a Heaven and whatnot. It was ironic really, because Dean had never even considered not sharing a Heaven with Sam. The first words out of his mouth as he finally realized where he was had been "if I'm in Heaven, then where's Sam?" Because that was just the way Dean's mind worked. And apparently, Cas had already known about all of this because he had told Dean he would find Sam if he just followed the road. 

So all this time, Cas knew he and Sam were...were...soulmates. Dean wasn't even really sure what to think about that. Or how in the world he was supposed to react. He noticed Sam sitting stiff and just as awkward at his elbow, but he couldn't bring his eyes to meet Sam's. He glanced in Sam's direction the moment Ash had said it, but not completely, just his eyes acknowledging the words. Now though, they were both frozen. 

The air between all three of them was silent in the drawn out awkward pause where no one knew where to go from here. What in the world was Dean supposed to say? Ash noticed them not looking at each other, not acknowledging what was happening, and he thankfully decided to eventually break the silence with an _"Anyways."_

 _Soulmates_. Dean hadn't even know they existed, but now everything made since. How he and Sam were tethered to each other with this sort of gravity no one understood. How they breathed in sync, knew each other's every move and thought. Dean could just glance and Sam's back and be able to tell all of the emotions he was feeling. How Dean had felt empty, broken, when Sam was gone. _Like he was missing the other half of his soul._. Every puzzle piece, every question he had about him and Sam, they were all beginning to fall into place. Why the bond that they shared somehow was stronger than people in committed relationships, how their stories always entwined with each other. Sam was his weak spot, and Dean would do anything to protect him. And he knew Sam would do the same. Because they were practically the same person, the same soul, trapped in two different bodies.

 _Soulmates_.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam couldn't bring himself to open his mouth once he got into the Impala. He had no idea what would come out, and he didn't need to add more to what was already a disaster. He'd spent a minute or two in front of the mirror, drying his eyes and making sure there were no signs they had been wet. Then he grabbed his bag and stepped over the threshold, which was guarded by the black trash can, holding nothing but a necklace, Dean's necklace. Dean had worn it for twenty years, but now it was in some no-name-motel trash can. Dean had lost his faith. In Sam. In everything.

It hurt, it really did, but the silence in the car as Dean drove let Sam think. He was jolted back to that Christmas, the one where he'd handed Dean the newspaper wrapped package. It was the first time Sam would consciously consider Dean to be more important, more understanding, _better_ than his father. 

Then it was simply flashes of Dean at different ages, 16 and in the Impala for the first time, his necklace swinging as he slid behind the driver's seat. 

17 and shirtless, jumping into the lake with nothing but the necklace and a pair of shorts. 

19 and on top of the school food chain, the necklace a heavy reminder against Sam's chest that Dean was still his brother, no matter how cool he was. 

21 and scolding, standing over Sam's hospital bed and shouting at him to be more careful, goddamn it, the hospital lights reflecting off the gold necklace and blinding Sam. 

24 and silent, Sam watching Dean grip his amulet tightly in the rear view mirror as Sam drove away from him. 

26 and dark, crowding all of Sam's vision with _Dean_ , as he lay on the floor to his apartment, looking up to see the amulet dangling in his face. _Dean? Woah there, tiger._

28 and hell bound, amulet on his chest as he walked in the door to the motel with a shocked grin on his face, taking in the Christmas decorations as Sam fought tears. 

29 and dead, the light gone from his perfect green eyes, his clothing torn to shreds, the only thing intact being the necklace, staring dauntingly at Sam as he lifted it from his brother's cold body. 

30 and wearing it again, like everything could finally go back to normal now, some glimmer of their old life.

And then now, the amulet dangling on a precipice above the trash can, threatening to throw it all away.

Sam looked over at Dean, at the tight muscles in his jaw as he fought the urge to kill something. Sam wanted to reach over and run his hand over Dean's cheek, whisper to him that it was going to be alright until it actually was. But it was all just a long stretch of pavement in front of them, black road leading them who knows where. To some job, some place to get away from it all, for Dean to get out his anger by slaughtering a couple of demons. 

It hurt, it did, the symbolism behind the necklace was inevitable. And Sam's heart definitely had a few cracks in it now that weren't there before, but it wasn't broken entirely. That necklace had meant the world to Dean, Sam had given him something that lasted for more than half of Dean's life. It connected them, yes, but it wasn't the only thing. Dean could throw everything in the world that reminded him of Sam away, it wouldn't make a difference. The necklace wasn't a big enough symbol to capture and describe their love.

Their connection, the bond between them, it went deeper than that. The amulet wasn't a symbol for their relationship, it was just another factor thrown in. Dean's feelings for Sam didn't change over a piece of jewelry. Sam would be okay, he would make it through this one.

He could've just grabbed the necklace, kept it and given it to Dean in a couple years, or not, but it would've probably caused more damage than good in the long run. It had served it's purpose, and Sam would miss seeing it dangling from Dean's chest, but it didn't have a place in the future. It gave Dean that familiar look of being totally himself, and the past couple weeks without it had been odd. But the necklace didn't define Dean, it was just a sprinkle on top. Dean was still just as beautiful and protective, and still just as much Sam's big brother. Necklace or not.


	39. Rigidity (99 Problems  05x17)

"Where you been?" Dean was waiting up for Sam, sitting on the bed impatiently. His arms were crossed, and he only looked at Sam for a second before turning his head. Somebody was pretty pissed.

"Drinkin'." Sam said, sauntering over to the bed and shedding his jacket on the way.

"Rebel," Dean murmured, his eyes closed, to keep them off of Sam. Sam walked into Dean's line of sight and spoke again, making him open his eyes and look at him.

"I'd had have more, but it was curfew." Dean pursed his lips, not amused. 

"Right." Sam walked forward and sat on the edge of Dean's bed, feeling miles away with the length of Dean's body between them. Dean looked at Sam for a moment before he sighed and sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Sam scooted over, sitting next to Dean now. 

Sam brought his hand up to Dean's cheek and turned his head, making him face Sam. Sam was originally planning on a kiss, but the dead light in Dean's eyes made him stop. He knew it was a bad time, could tell from the moment he had seen Dean, but he'd been hoping- well, apparently not. Instead he just ran his hand along Dean's jaw, sliding his hand down Dean's neck and stopping over his heart. Dean's heartbeat was calm and slow, feeling just as tired as the rest of him looked. Sam dropped his hand to Dean's leg and brought his left arm up to rub circles into Dean's back. Dean leaned into his hand automatically, then consciously stopped himself, retaining his rigidity. 

Sam just told him about the cell towers, and explained everything the angels were doing. Dean didn't respond, physically or mentally, just a _hmm_ once. Sam was starting to grow worried, and he barked at Dean.

"Angel world, angel rules man."

"And since when is that okay with you?" Sam's hand on Dean's back had stilled.

"Since the angels got the only lifeboat on the Titanic." Dean shifted away, standing up and crossing the room. Sam watched his back, watched how broken he walked. "Who exactly is supposed to come along and save these people? It was supposed to be us, but we can't do it."

"So what? You, you wanna, you wanna just stop fighting? Roll over?" Sam was looking incredulously at Dean. Was this actually his brother?

'I don't know. Maybe." Sam looked over at him, his heart shattering. He couldn't let this happen.

"Don't say that." It was a plead, and a warning.

"Why not?" Dean was closing himself off, Sam could tell. Normally, Dean would be able to tell exactly what Sam meant without even looking at him. Now, he was shutting Sam out so much that he didn't even see what was happening.

"Cause you can't do this." Sam couldn't bring himself to look at Dean. To look at the defeat in his eyes.

"Actually I can." Dean had made this a rebellion thing, and now he was intent on doing it just because Sam said he can't.

"No, you can't. You can't do this." Sam stood up, not bothering to hide the tears that were threatening to stream out of his eyes at any moment. "To me."

Dean froze, looking at Sam. He didn't move a muscle, didn't acknowledge, that same dead look still in his eyes. Sam couldn't bare it a moment longer, and turned his head, breathing in to attempt to stop the tears. He turned back to Dean, a little bit more under control.

"I know one thing. One thing keeping me going. It's you. How I feel about you. You think you're the only one white-knucking it here, Dean? I can't count on anyone else."

Dean's eyes shifted down, then he turned his head to the side, his mouth parting like he had been holding his breath for too long.

"I can't do this alone. I need you. With me." Dean looked down, moving his coffee cup over to the table. He started walking towards the door, grabbing his jacket.

"Dean," Sam started. _Dean, I love you._ But he didn't get the chance to say it.

"I need to clear my head." He didn't turn around to Sam, so Sam didn't see the tears welling up in his eyes either. He just reached for the door, swinging it open, the clicking shut behind him feeling scarily final. Sam shook his head and stepped backwards, trying to get his emotions more under control. He couldn't get through to Dean if he couldn't get a grip on himself. Now was probably not the best time to proclaim his undying love for his brother, Dean would probably break under all the stress. But at the same time, Sam figured Dean still needed to hear it. Maybe just not yet.


	40. Fixated (Point of No Return  05x18)

"Sending someone a candy gram?" Dean froze, fairly sure it was his imagination playing tricks on him. Or maybe he was losing his mind again. But he turned around, and Sam was there. Sam stood by the door, the only thing that still looked sharp in a world that had turned blurry.

Dean just stared at him for a moment, his heart pounding. He thought he'd never see Sam again. He thought this would've been it. 

"How'd you find me?" He was dumbfounded. Dean knew he could find Sam, any time, any where. But he didn't think that Sam knew him as well as he knew Sam. He'd always thought that he felt stronger about Sam than Sam did about him. Wanted him more, needed him more, knew him better. But apparently, he was wrong. Because here Sam was, barely twenty four hours since the last time Dean had seen him. He wasn't sure if _he_ could track himself down that fast.

"You're gonna kill yourself, right? It's not too hard to figure out the stops on the farewell tour." Sam shrugged, looking broken and lost. Bitter. Dean just nodded, not looking at Sam's eyes anymore. "How's Lisa doing, anyways?"

"I'm not gonna kill myself." Dean knew Sam wouldn't understand, couldn't understand. But Dean had to do this, he had to save something, if he couldn't save his brother. Sam was the only reason Dean lived anymore, and if this all went to hell, Dean had to be able to stop Sam from being trapped in Lucifer for the next century.

"No? So, Michael's _not_ about to make you his Muppet?" Dean looked away, knowing his eyes would give away his answer. He didn't want Sam to have to see this, to have to see him falling apart before the end. It would've been better if Sam's last memory of him was of the Impala's taillights. That would be the easy way. He took the drink of whiskey he'd been planning on, letting the burn slowly blur the world a little more. Besides Sam, no matter how much Dean drank, Sam was always there, crystal clear.

"What the hell, man? This is how it ends, you just walk out? This is how you leave me, in some motel room, ditched like some girl you took to prom?" Dean didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah, I guess." He poured himself another glass, wondering just how blurry everything could get before Sam started blurring at the edges too. 

"How could you _do_ that?" Sam's voice was emotional, heartbroken, torn.

"How could I?" Dean remembered perfectly well what Sam's heaven consisted of. All of the moments that Sam left Dean, all of those nights of torture relived. "All you've ever done is run away. All you've ever done is left me, left me behind. You never actually cared about me, how many times have you ditched me, Sam? You're always the one to leave."

"And I was wrong! Every single time I did." Dean stared at Sam. He didn't think he'd ever hear that. But it came a day too late, it didn't matter anymore. So what if Sam regretted leaving his ass all the time. It was Dean's turn now.

"Just. Please. Not now. Bobby is working on something." Dean huffed at that. There was no other way. Sam hadn't been to the future, hadn't seen it all happen. Didn't know how it was going to turn out if Dean didn't do this.

"Oh really? What?" Sam was bluffing now, they both knew it. Sam didn't have any real reasons for Dean to not do this. Dean didn't have any either. "You got nothin', and you know it."

Sam sighed and looked down. Dean took another drink, watching the green of the room slowly blend with the grays. 

"You know I'm gonna have to stop you." Dean set his glass down, stepping out from behind the couch to face Sam. 

"Yeah, well, you can try." Sam wasn't stronger than Dean. He was faster, but Sam couldn't take him. "Just remember, you're not all hopped up on demon blood this time."

It was low, and Dean knew it, but he needed to get Sam mad. Needed to get him out. So Dean could go do this to save his ass. Sam just nodded, his teeth clenched for a moment, but not actually mad.

"Yeah, I know." Sam let out the breath he'd been holding. Dean looked at him curiously. "But I brought help."

Dean heard a flapping of wings behind him, felt the fluttering in his chest, and turned around to see Cas. Then came Cas's hand and everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean hadn't liked Adam a lot before, but now, as he sputtered off some thing about him being Michael's vessel, Dean liked him even less.

"That's insane." Dean was looking at Adam, confused and annoyed.

"Not necessarily." Dean turned to look at Cas, who seemed to be pouting in the corner.

"How do you mean?"

"Maybe they're moving on from you, Dean." Dean chanced a look at Sam, and didn't miss the flicker of hope across his features. He turned back to Cas.

"Well that doesn't make sense."

"He is John Winchester's blood line. Sam's brother. It's not perfect, but it's possible." 

"You gotta be kidding me." Dean took all this in. There was no way some _kid_ was going to be the one to end Sam. Dean wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on Sam besides him, and that included angelic assisted people.

"Why would they do this?" Dean couldn't tell what emotion that was in Sam's voice. This whole attempting to shut himself off thing had its major disadvantages.

"Maybe they're desperate. Maybe they wrongly assumed Dean-" Dean shut his eyes, knowing a punch was coming next "would be brave enough to withstand them."

Dean turned in his chair to face Cas.

"You know what, blow me Cas." Castiel just stared at him angrily. Then he furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about what the words meant. Dean turned back around as Castiel realized what exactly that expression meant, and instantly regretted saying it. If he somehow did make it out of this alive, Cas had some explaining to do about where his mind is going. His eyes shifted, thinking about how much he'd been shutting Cas out too. And he hadn't even planned on saying goodbye to him, either. Dean was turning into a total dick.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cas had been sitting in silence for the past few hours, waiting for the moment when he would hear a prayer on Dean's behalf. It took only a few words from the street man to let Cas know where Dean was, and he showed up instantly.

"You pray too loud." Then the man was on the ground, and Cas was on Dean, grabbing him by his jacket and pulling him into an alley. Cas threw him up against a wall, his face inches from Dean's.

"What are you, crazy?" Dean managed to breathe out, between getting his air knocked out of him as Castiel slammed him up against the opposite wall.

"I rebelled for this?" Castiel slammed Dean again, now laying his fist to Dean's flawless jaw, punching him with both hands. Then his hands were on the front of Dean's jacket and Castiel pinned Dean up against the wall, Dean's body weak and failing. Castiel's lips were inches away from Dean's as his eyes were pinned on the green ones.

"So you could surrender to them?" The words were inches away from Dean's mouth and then Dean was thrown again, a few feet in the air to the next brick wall. Dean groaned in pain and Castiel socked him in the stomach, watching him double over before he punched him back upright with a fist to the chin. Then Dean was spun into the wall again, red blood dripping from his mouth.

"Cas, please," Dean begged, clearly in more pain than he had been before. Castiel just pulled him off the wall and threw him again, pressing his body into Dean's as he hit the wall, bounced back and hit the wall again. Dean was still fighting to breathe, his breaths laced with groans of pain. 

"I gave _everything_ for you. And this is what you give to me?" Castiel had loved Dean with every ounce of his being, and this is his thank you. Dean was going to leave him. Well, Cas wasn't going to be let go of that easy. He pulled Dean back off the wall and slammed his fist into Dean's face, making him reel back before Castiel kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards a few feet into the fence and collapsing on the cement. 

Dean's face was broken and bloody, his entire body was. He spit out blood, choking and coughing on the floor. He managed to find the strength to prop himself up enough to look at Cas. Castiel stared down at him, Dean looking not even half as broken as Castiel felt.

"Do it," Dean sputtered out, blood dripping from the lips that had once captured Castiel's. "Just do it!"

Dean shouted, trying to win this by still giving in, still dying. But Castiel loved Dean too much to kill him. Besides, that wasn't the point. He got a grip on his anger, watching the man beneath him gasp for air. His fist slowly uncurled as he tucked his anger away, replacing it with a little more rationality. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as Cas approached him, preparing himself for the pain that was sure to come next. Cas just knocked him out though, with the touch of two fingers. Dean collapsed on the ground at his feet, and Castiel just looked at him for a moment, seeming so small, so much smaller than he was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Dean woke up, sore as hell and still in pain all over, he could feel Sam watching him. He always had been able to, and now he summed it up to the whole "one soul two bodies thing." And the fact that he knew that kid better than everyone.

"How you feeling?" Dean sat up, trying not to cringe at the sharp pain erupting from everywhere.

"Word to the wise: don't piss off the nerd angels." Sam just looked down, concern for Dean showing on his face. Even after their last conversation, or last couple, Sam somehow didn't hate Dean. Dean didn't know how that was possible.

"So how's it going?" Sam breathed in, probably gathering courage to tell Dean.

"Adam's gone. The angels have him." Sam explained the situation to him and Dean nodded tightly, looking away.

"What are you gonna do?" Sam got up, and Dean looked at him curiously.

"For starters, bringing you with." Sam got out the key to unlock Dean's wrist from the bed. 

"Excuse me?" Dean wasn't sure if this was actually happening or not.

Sam rattled off some story about needing backup, which Dean was grateful for at least Sam not being stupid reckless on this one. Dean stared at him, open mouthed as Sam tossed the handcuffs aside, sitting back down on the edge of the desk.

"Isn't that a bad idea?"

"Cas and Bobby think so. I'm not so sure." Dean hated being the one to crush Sam's dreams, he'd been assigned that role too many times. Santa isn't real, Dad hunts monsters, there's no way to save me from hell. But he had to do it again, had to tell Sam the truth.

"Well they're right. Cause either it's a trap to get me there to make me say yes, or it's not a trap and I'm gonna say yes anyway." Sam shifted his weight, eyes running over Dean and reading his body language. "And I will. Fair warning."

Sam just shook his head slightly.

"No you won't." Dean looked at Sam, not sure if he was deaf or just dumb. He just breathed in and watched Sam, waiting a few moments after his next words before he responded. "When push shoves, you'll make the right call."

"You know, if the tables were turned, I'd let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here." Sam snorted and raised his eyebrows, remembering just as clearly as Dean did.

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm not that smart." Sam's hands were clasped together, something he only did when he was extremely lonely and in need of comfort. Dean noticed, but didn't say anything about it. Sam was still confident though, Dean could see it in his shoulders. Sam actually believed in Dean. Sam believed he was going to say no.

"I-I don't get it. Sam, why you doing this?"

Sam just looked at him, his eyes telling Dean everything he needed to know.

"Because." Sam didn't break eye contact for a moment, didn't flinch. "I love you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean had put all of his girly emotions aside as they started out on the mission. Dean had never responded to Sam's declaration, and he was doing his best not to thing about it. He was focusing on the matter at hand, saving Adam.

"There are at least five angels in there." It'd be easier if Castiel just did this.

"So?" Dean said, looking at Cas. "You're fast."

"They're faster." Castiel's hands suddenly went to his tie, and he began to undo the knot. Dean's eyes went down to Cas's hands and stared, fixated with the stripping angel. His mind literally went blank for a moment, and words couldn't even form in his thoughts. Cas pulled the tie from one side, whipping it around his neck. Dean still stared, until he felt Sam's gaze on him break through the haze of blind lust. He breathed in a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and looked away for just a moment before his eyes re-glued themselves to Cas again. Cas was talking and Dean wasn't sure what was happening, but he blinked a few times, trying to clear his head of thoughts of Castiel stripping. Castiel was getting undressed. Right here. In front of Dean. And he was turning away, going inside the building? That wasn't safe, no, Cas, wait, come back, you didn't finish stripping.

Dean reached out and pulled Cas's arm, his brain on autopilot and saying something that actually made sense.

"You're gonna take on five angels?" Castiel looked at him. He looked so different without the tie. Who knew just one tie made such a difference. If any of them lived past this, Dean was going to take that tie off himself some time. Wow, he needed a bit more thinking with his upstairs brain right now. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean was angry watching Adam choking on his blood on the floor, but when he saw Sam double over, blood spilling past his lips, his lip quivered and he shook involuntarily. Dean had to turn his eyes away, couldn't watch his Sammy go through that. Dean sat his gaze on Zachariah, deadly and intending to kill. 

"You're finally ready, right?" Dean looked over at Sam again, couldn't help himself when he was making those awful noises. He looked at Adam too, the poor, innocent kid who didn't deserve to be in the middle of all of this. "You know there's no other choice, there's never been another choice."

"Stop it," Dean's voice was weak, he could practically feel the pain Sam was in, could taste the blood in his mouth. He spoke up again, trying to be stronger. "Stop it right now."

"In exchange for what?"

"Damn it Zachariah. Stop it please." He looked at Sam again, still tasting blood. "I'll do it."

Zach decided to be the dick he was, cupping his hand to his ear, making Dean repeat it.

"Okay, yes." His eyes glanced at Sam. "The answer is yes."

"Dean." Sam breathed out, his body barely able to make the sound. Dean couldn't look at him. Couldn't see the disappointment in his eyes.

"Do you hear me?" Dean practically shouted as Zachariah turned and looked at Sam. "Call Michael down, you bastard."

Dean looked down, frantically. He saw Adam, still spitting blood on the floor. But he couldn't turn to Sam. Couldn't do it.

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Do I look like I'm lying?" Dean stared Zachariah in the eyes, his voice breaking with tears. And he wasn't lying, either. He was going to do this. He truly meant it: Dean was about to say yes. 

Zach started speaking Latin, and Dean started losing it. This was it, this was the end. It was really over. He was fighting the burning desire to turn towards Sam, fighting every bone in his body. But his eyes found Sam's anyways, and he froze. The look in Sam's eyes, the disappointment and the pain, how desperate he looked. 

Sam turned his head away from Dean, and Dean had to watch him break down. Had to watch his brother lose it as Dean took the easy way out. And it was funny, as he was staring at Sam, all the things coming to mind. That disappointment in Sam's eyes was killing him, probably because Dean knew exactly what that felt like. He remembered balling up on the floor of a hotel room, crying amongst broken glass as his Sam had walked out _if you walk out that door, don't you ever come back_. He knew what that final step did, how it cut deeper than any wound Dean had ever felt. Dean couldn't imagine putting that kind of pain on Sam.

Sam looked at him again, and Dean stared for a moment, then blinked suddenly in realization. _"Sam, why are you doing this?" "Because. I love you."_ Sam loved him. Sam loved him. And Dean couldn't let go of that. Dean couldn't let him down.

Sam saw the change in Dean's face, and confusion took over the pain in his features. Dean didn't break eye contact with his brother as Zach spoke.

"He's coming."

Dean just grinned now, his entire plan flipped on a dime. He winked at Sam, letting him know this was going to be okay. This wasn't the end. Because you know what? Sam loved him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So." 

"So what?" Dean looked over at Sam, keeping his eyes on him as long as he dared.

"I saw your eyes. You were totally rocking the yes back there."

Dean blinked, thinking about the gravity of what Sam just said. How Sam knew exactly what he was feeling, because he saw Dean's eyes.

"So. What changed your mind?"

"Honestly? The damnedest thing. I mean, the world's ending, walls are coming down, all that. I look over at you and all I can think about is that stupid son of a bitch brought me here. Because he. Because he loves me. I just didn't wanna let you down. Because."

Dean looked over at Sam, their eyes clashing. "Because I feel that way about you too. I need you, Sam. In every way I can have you."

Dean thought it seemed only fitting that he confess right now, not only because it was how he felt, but because this was them. Him driving the baby, Sam sitting shotgun, on the way to nowhere. Sam had said it in the panic room, which held a lot of symbolism for Sam, too. 

And Dean apologized too, apologized for not seeing how grown up Sam was. And for not having faith in Sam when Sam needed him.

"So screw destiny, I say we take the fight to them and do it our way. Together."

"Sounds good," Sam smiled, for the first time in a while. Dean grinned at seeing it, then turned his head back to the road. He drove for a little ways, before he saw a dirt clearing, the steel barrier at the edge overlooking a valley. Nevada was actually surprisingly beautiful in parts, and this was definitely one of those parts. It was dark outside, but the dark shadow outlines of the scenery were lit up by the moon.  
Dean pulled the Impala over to the clearing, probably about ten feet away from the road. He put her in park, and turned off the engine, putting the keys in his pocket. Then Dean opened his door, stepping out into the slightly chilly air. He heard Sam's door close, and turned to face him from across the car. But Sam was already halfway in front of the hood, reaching Dean within a few seconds. 

Sam reached out his hand to tilt Dean's face up, looking in his eyes for a moment.

"I love you," Sam murmured, bringing their mouths together. Dean melted into the kiss, which started out sweet and passionate. But then Dean ran his hands up Sam's back and pressed his body closer. Dean broke this kiss for just a moment, his lips still brushing Sam's as he spoke.

"Me too." Then Dean couldn't stand it anymore, he'd missed Sam way too much over the past couple of days. He put his hands on the front of Sam's jacket, turning him and pushing him up against the car. Sam moaned softly in surprise as his back slammed against it, Dean's mouth hot and wet on his. Then Dean was pushing Sam's jacket off of his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Sam moved to push Dean's off to, but Dean broke their mouths for a moment, stepping back. 

"Hold on, keys," Dean said, pulling off his jacket and balling it carefully, opening the driver's door and tossing it in. Sam picked up his jacket off the ground, shook a little dirt off of it, and tossed it inside as well. Then Sam was on Dean's buttons, tossing it into the car along with his own button-up. Now they were both in tshirts and jeans, but it was too chilly to strip much more in the open air. Dean closed the driver side door, and opened up the back seat door, gesturing for Sam to get inside. Sam grinned and ducked his head down, sliding into the back seat bench. Dean climbed in after him, closing the door and reaching up front to press the lock button for the whole car. Safe now, Dean finally turned to Sam again. 

Their hands went to each other's faces, holding each other as they kissed again, leaning across the car from opposite sides. It was a few moments before Dean was missing Sam's body heat, and scooted forward, pulling Sam towards him. Sam obliged, and Dean used the momentum to let himself fall backwards on the seat, laying down. Sam shifted on top of him, his weight crushing Dean in the most comforting way. Sam lifted himself back up for a moment, reaching down between them and unbuttoning Dean's jeans. Dean threw his head back as Sam pulled down his zipper and lifted Dean's hips to tug his jeans down. Sam unbunched them from around Dean's ankles and tossed them to the front, quickly doing the same with his own. Dean watched Sam's hands now that Dean wasn't the one being undressed.

Just in boxers now, Sam pressed his weight down on Dean again and Dean arched up into him, making as much of their bodies touch as possible. Sam pushed him down flush against the seat, pressing a kiss to Dean's already swollen lips. Dean bit at Sam's bottom lip as Sam slipped his leg in between Dean's, pressing down against the thin fabric of his boxers. The heat alone was making Dean wither with anticipation, moaning louder than he intended too. Sam grinned into Dean's mouth and slipped his hands down Dean's sides, smoothly curving around to the small of Dean's back and sliding further down. Sam's hands were on Dean's ass now, and Dean shuddered, breaking the kiss to pant heavily. He breathed into Sam's mouth, and stole Sam's air, needing it in him to breathe. He never wanted to breathe any other type of air again, only air directly from Sam's mouth. 

Sam rocked his hips forward, his thigh pressing harder against Dean and his hands countering the motion, tightening their grip slightly. Dean let out a muffled cry, his brain fogged from everything but Sam. Sam, who deserved the best in the world and somehow wanted him. Sam, who deserved something a lot better than spontaneous back-of-the-Impala-sex for the first time. Sam deserved the world. 

Dean pulled his mouth away from Sam's, turning his head to the side, unfortunately having to breathe non-Sam air. Sam just latched onto his neck, sucking and kissing and the skin already layered in a slight sheen of sweat.

"Sam," Dean managed to breathe out, sliding his hands up and down Sam's back. Sam made a noise and kept on kissing Dean's neck.

"Sam," Dean tried again, his voice a little bit stronger now. Sam caught on to the tone in his voice and stopped his slow rocking, pulling his mouth away from Dean's neck and sliding his hands back up to Dean's lower back.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Sam was way too coherent, this wasn't fair. Dean was still hardly being able to breathe.

"I-I just. You deserve better than this." Sam furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at Dean.

"Dean, I don't want anyone else besides you. Is now really the time for you to get all insecure-" Dean shook his head, moving his hands to Sam's hips.

"No, I mean. You deserve better than the back of the Impala. _We_ deserve better."

Sam looked at him for a moment, debating between his desire and Dean's words, but eventually nodded. Sam leaned to the side and took his leg out from in between Dean's, the sudden cold making Dean whimper slightly. Sam smirked and slid all the way off of Dean, sitting up now. Dean stared at the ceiling of the car for a second before he sat up as well, looking over at Sam. 

"What do you say we go find somewhere nice for a change?"

Sam's reply was a lot more felt than heard, and it took all of Dean's willpower not to just give in right there and let Sam kiss him back into laying down. But he wanted this for Sam, he wanted this in general, so he was definitely going to wait. It would be worth it.


	41. Juxtaposed (Hammer of the Gods  05x19)

Sam knew as soon as the guy said "pie" that it would be another couple hours before they checked into their room. Sam was definitely wanting to just go now and finish what they'd started in the Impala, but Dean would be in a better mood if he got pie first. Sam still couldn't shake the feeling he had about this place. It was sweet of Dean to pick somewhere so nice, but Sam was worried. About not just that though, about everything. 

Dean noticed the second he sat down, complaining at Sam to "unpucker" which Sam was like, 98% sure wasn't a word. But he listened to Dean anyways, feeling himself relax a little bit with the words and the hold Dean's legs had on his, wrapped together underneath the table.

"C'mon, we actually get the night off for once, let's try to enjoy it."

It was probably an hour before they finished their little coupley, table for two dinner. Dean had more pie than could be healthy, but Sam wasn't in the mood to scold him. Sam was in the mood for a lot of other things. He was impatient as they searched for their room, keeping as close to Dean as possible, but walking in front for once because he wanted to find the room _now_. He kept looking at Dean more than usual, just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of him. Dean seemed like his cool and collected self, and Sam had no idea how he was doing it.

Dean flew through the door, dropping his duffel and instantly grabbing the chocolate off of his pillow.

"You want yours?"

"Knock yourself out," Sam said, his voice less shaky than he felt. He'd stopped halfway across the room, kind of frozen and not sure where to go. Dean looked up after he sat the chocolates down, noticing Sam standing a ways away. Dean smiled with the side of his mouth, which was the most adorable thing ever.

"C'mere," Dean said, cocking his head to motion Sam over. Sam dropped his bag on the same bed Dean did, leaving the other one open. Dean closed the space between them, reaching up to connect their lips. And just like that, all of Sam's stiffness melted away, and his hands flew to Dean again. They both kept the kiss slow and deep, neither one pushing or rushing this at all. Like Dean had said, they finally get a night off. And Sam was planning on enjoying it as much as he possibly could. 

Dean spun them around, pushing Sam back gently on the bed. Sam fell onto it, laying back as Dean reached for the light switch. Everything turned dark, except for the glow of a little lamp by the bathroom and the moonlight that was cutting through the windows. Then Dean crawled on top of him, slowly kissing Sam like they had years to do this. They both stripped down, not as much teasingly or pushing this time, just simply ridding themselves of all the physical barriers between their bodies. Dean had his hands on either side of Sam's body, holding himself up a few inches above him. Dean rested his forehead on Sam's, and Sam could feel Dean's eyes close, their chests brushing each other as they breathed in time. They stayed like that for a minute or two, just breathing together, foreheads and noses touching, bodies close enough to feel each other's warmth.

"Hey Sam?" Dean finally spoke, his eyes still closed and his voice soft and gentle.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"You sure you want this?" Sam nodded slightly, Dean's head moving with his. Dean breathed out slowly, trying to control his shaking. He took a few more breaths before he had himself under control, then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam's, just lips, gently, for just a moment. Then he sat back, behind Sam's propped up knees. Dean carefully prepped them both, going slow enough to not cause any discomfort, but not lingering on the task either. Sam closed his eyes, just letting himself focus on the feeling of Dean's fingers inside him. Sam didn't know Dean could be this gentle, he'd never seen a side to him quite like this. Even the protective, doctoring Dean was still rougher than this.

It wasn't long before Dean rose back up over Sam, kissing him again, with an open mouth this time. When he pulled away, Sam stared at the beautiful green eyes, lost in what felt like forever.

"Sammy," he breathed.

"You are my everything," Dean whispered, placing his hands on Sam's hips. Sam breathed out Dean's name, his hands gripping Dean's shoulders as Dean slid inside him. Sam fought the urge to throw his head back, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's instead. Dean's breathing was ragged, and his body was trembling slightly. Sam could think, feel, have nothing besides Dean. That was all there was, in the whole world, just Dean. No words, no thoughts, nothing besides his brother, rocking gently inside him. 

Sam felt more complete, more right and at home than he had in his entire life. This was the other half of his soul, the better part of him, and Sam got to have all of him. He was filled with everything Dean, and had never felt more like he belonged.

Dean was his weak spot, and his strength. His brother and lover, his entire world and purpose for living. 

And when Sam looked into Dean's eyes, he saw a perfect reflection of everything he was feeling. This was them, and this was forever. This was love.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam woke up to the sound of a crash. He snapped open his eyes, his hunter instinct getting the better of him. He lifted his head, looking over at the sleeping figure beside him. Dean looked more at peace than Sam had ever seen him, his entire body relaxed and warm. Sam hated to wake him, and considered not, but then another crash from the room next door.

"Dean?" Sam's voice cracked, but he tried again. "Dean? Hey, wake up."

Dean fluttered his eyes open, his lips curling up just a little. He squeezed his fingers a little tighter around Sam's hand, letting him know he was awake. 

"Dean, I think something happened next door." 

Dean groaned, but quickly sat up when the next crash came, knocking the TV out of place on the wall. He looked over at Sam before throwing off the sheets and padding over to his clothes. Sam admired the view for just a moment before he rolled out of bed as well, dressing quickly like John had taught them to. 

Now it was back on a job again, both sighing as Dean found the wedding ring on the carpet of the honeymooners bedroom. They took it down to the front desk, showing it to the man who suspiciously said that they had checked out. Sam wasn't as focused as he normally was, unable to keep his eyes off of Dean.

It was like there was this gravity between them, but different from the one Sam was used to. That gravity was out of protection, the fear of losing each other, and this tension that neither of them acted on for a long time. Until tonight. Now it was different, they walked more at the same pace, standing next to each other, juxtaposed like equals, instead of one in front and one behind. This gravity was made of trust, of loyalty to each other and this new side of their relationship that Sam still wasn't quite positive if it was a dream.

But Dean was here, and real, standing next to him and making a plan for the hunt. He was still here, he'd stayed, even after everything that just happened. Dean had stayed.

"Alright, I'll go scope out the joint, and you keep an eye on Norman Bates over here."

Dean moved to the side, his shoulder brushing Sam's and sending an electric shock through his body.

"I mean, one night off, is that too much to ask?"

Sam's gaze followed Dean for a little while, sharing his annoyance at the interruptance of their night. Tonight was supposed to be about them, but then it went and got spoiled. Again. 

But there was still a part of tonight that had been perfect. And Sam wasn't going to forget it for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So on the smut:
> 
> First off, I didn't write much detail bc I don't think it's really needed at this point in the game. I wanted to make sure that this was about love, not sex. So more dirty and detailed smut can come later. And if you're a top!Sam person, don't worry, your time will come. I wanted to set it up for soulless Sam being a top and such. There will be plenty of both.


	42. Wickedly (The Devil You Know  05x20)

"It allows me to hear things too. And my, the things I've heard." Crowley grinned wickedly, and both of the boys put the most lovely expressions on their faces. They turned to each other in horror, and Crowley chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry. We demons don't have much use for morals, a little incest never bothered me." Sam stepped forward, a deadly look on his face. The older brother reached out and stopped him, placing a hand over his heart.

"Sam, don't," Dean warned. See, Crowley knew there was a reason he liked that one. Sam was practically begging Dean with his eyes, but Dean held firm in his position. "We may need him."

"Yes, you do, actually. You want to cram the devil back in the box. Cunning scheme. I want in." 

Crowley figured it might be a bit difficult working with these two, especially considering that they were attached at the hip now, even more than before. Which Crowley didn't think was possible, but he clearly had been proven wrong. It was a bloody shame it took them this long to figure it out.

But Crowley was right in his prediction for the difficulty of the Winchester brothers. They were still working through some intense sexual tension, and were refusing to leave each other's sides, always within touching distance. But Crowley needed Dean alone, just Dean, since Sam could quite easily jeopardize the mission. Or kill Crowley. Or turn dark side and take over hell as the boy king. And Crowley frankly didn't like any of those options, so he decided that leaving the moose behind was a must. When he mentioned it though, Dean just stared at him, his eyes implying that Crowley already knew the answer. Crowley had, after all, been witness to part of their love confession and the heated session in the backseat. 

"Gentlemen. Enjoy your last few sunsets." Crowley figured he might as well throw another romantic relationship joke at them, they were pissed at him enough anyways.

He was a little surprised when Dean stopped him last moment and told him he'd go. He wished he hadn't missed the look on Sam's face though, it was sure to be brilliant. Sam could get so butthurt about these things, and he was sure to over react now. After all, what was the big deal with being apart for an hour? Oh wait, that was right, they had just hooked up and were still in that codependent honeymooning stage. Although Crowley figured that stage would probably last for quite some time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean was a bit gobsmacked when he found out about who the demon really was, but he was insistent on going back to Sam anyways. Crowley had no idea why, it wasn't like Dean could control Sam enough to make him not freak out. 

It turned out though, that Dean's faith in his brother had not been misplaced. Crowley had almost died of sappiness during their initial talk _"I'm doing this because I trust you"_ , oh well isn't that romantic. Crowley thought it wouldn't make a bit of a difference, and at first, he was right. Dean had to man-handle Sam out of the room, putting his hands all over Sam and using all of his strength to get him out of there. Crowley would normally feel a bit odd watching, but he'd already heard quite a bit, and was used to the extremely sexual relationship between them by now.

It was still surprising though, when Sam had the opportunity to kill Brady and choose not to. Quite endearing, how he stopped for his brother. If Crowley wasn't a cold-hearted demon, the relationship between those two boys might have been enough to make him believe. In love, that is. But Crowley was still Crowley, and he was still a demon. So he resumed his game of laughing at the lovestruck brothers. It was a game he enjoyed quite a bit, and wouldn't mind doing more often. Maybe he would.


	43. Carnage (Two Minutes to Midnight  05x21)

Dean did not have the patience to sit and watch video screens. It just simply wasn't an option. He tried, he really did, sat still for about five minutes, but then he kept getting distracted. Dean glanced over at Sam, then decided that watching Sam was much more enjoyable than a couple of out of date security camera sick people videos. At first he just glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye, then he decided, you know what? What the hell.

Dean turned his head to Sam and propped his head up on his hand. Sam turned to him for a moment before turning back to the screen. Dean watched as Sam's eyes scanned all the different monitors, the hazel circles sweeping back and forth. Sam's hair was swept back, slightly wavy as it curved away from his face. Dean wanted to reach out and pet it, but decided it would probably be better to let Sam focus. So he just watched, his eyes drifting over Sam's lips, nose, cheekbones, the hand that was propped against his forehead, his shoulders, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Dean kept his gaze on Sam as he mind began to drift, as he started to analyze things.

Everything felt a little different between them now. For one thing, there wasn't anymore angry tension between them. It was like they'd come to terms with everything in their lives and just decided to make the best of it. Even when Dean threw that fit this morning, yelling at Sam for his retarded idea, there was still the mutual understanding between them that, in the end, everything would be worked out. Because they could do that. They were a team, a partnership in every sense of the word. 

Dean grinned at that thought, closing his eyes for a moment to let his mind drift back to that hotel room, the feel of Sam's smooth skin beneath his hands, the dim lights and the warmth of Sam's body pressed against his, and-

Sam's hand was suddenly on Dean's leg, and Dean woke out of his temporary dream, his leg pushing up into Sam's hand automatically.

"Hey, what are we even looking for?" Dean blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his mind still only thinking _Sam_. But Sam had been nice enough to say "we" when he was clearly doing all the work, so Dean figured he'd contribute.

"Well he's Pestilence, so he probably looks sick." 

"Everybody looks sick." Dean threw his hand up, of course they did. This was even more annoying than he'd thought it would be. Sam took his hand back, and Dean stood up, stretching. He paced across the room, moving to behind Sam and watching him from a new angle. But he soon grew tired of that position, and moved again, across the room to a stack of something to sit on. Dean didn't know how Sammy did it, how he just sat there. Finally, Dean grew tired of the five feet between them, deciding it was much too far.

Dean got up again, moving behind Sam to place his hands on the table, on either side of Sam's shoulders. Sam hummed quietly to acknowledge Dean's presence, but didn't take his eyes off the screens. Dean watched them too, for a moment, then got distracted by the soft hair in front of him. Dean slid his cheek down the side of Sam's head, reaching down to press a kiss to Sam's neck. Sam made another noise, but still didn't tear his eyes from the screens. Determined now, Dean pulled Sam's skin in between his teeth, sucking and nipping at his neck. Sam moaned, and his head rolled forward, finally responding to Dean.

"Dean, I c-can't focus with you doing that." Sam mumbled the words, unpropping his head from his hand and bringing his hand down to place over Dean's. Dean drew back from the dark mark he was making on Sam's neck, kissing it softly, then kissing a line up to Sam's jaw. 

"Dean, I- Hey." Sam's eyes had landed on the computer screen, and his tone of voice changed back to business. Dean pulled his head back up, still hovering over Sam, but looking at the screen now too. He watched the fuzz line that drew over the man's face as he walked across the building.

"Now we're talkin." Sam turned his head around to look at Dean, communicating that this was the guy. Dean pushed himself off the table, reluctantly heading for the door. Sam followed close behind, and as soon as they hit the hallway, they stood basically side by side. It was nice for a change. Dean wasn't sure it was permanent, but still nice. When things got dangerous though, he still stepped in front of Sam. No matter what relationship they had, it was still Dean's job to protect him.

Once they got closer, Dean's stomach cramped with an ungodly pain, and he doubled over, his vision going blurry. He heard Sam say his name, but couldn't respond without coughing. Sam's hands were suddenly wrapped around him, lifting him and helping him move forward. Sam had one arm wrapped over Dean's entire back, and the other was gripping the front of this arm tightly. Dean closed his eyes, trying to focus on Sammy's warmth, then he was suddenly toppling over, collapsing on the ground with Sam half on top of him. Sam lifted his weight off of Dean carefully, but Dean wasn't sure how, based on the fact that Sam was just as sick as he was. But here Dean was, laying on the ground and coughing, as Sam scrambled to his feet, advancing on the door. Dean didn't know how he did it, Sam just did it. And it was one of the last things he thought before he doubled over in more pain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean was in the process of putting the rings in the trunk, in locked safe boxes, when he felt Sam approaching and turned his head, watching as Sam walked past him, leaning against the car. Sam sighed, and Dean could tell just from that what was on his mind.

"Lemme guess, we're about to have a talk," Dean walked around from the hood, bringing his body a foot away from Sam's, watching as Sam grinned at Dean's assumption. But he pushed himself off the car, facing Dean, staring straight at him. Damn, Sam was tall.

"Look Dean, about- uh- for the record. I agree with you. About me. You think I'm too weak to take on Lucifer? Well, so do I. Believe me, I know exactly how screwed up I am. You, Bobby, Cas? I'm the least of any of you."

"Aw, Sam," Sam actually thought that? If only Sam knew, knew how good and perfect and better than everything he was. _That_ was why Dean didn't want this for him. Sam deserved better.

"It's true, it is, but I'm also all we got." Dean leaned against the car, folding his arms across his chest and looking down. "If there was another way, but I don't think there is. There's just me. So I don't know what else to do. Except just try to do what's gotta be done."

Dean looked up at Sam, just looked at him for a moment. His baby brother, who wanted to sacrifice himself to save the world. Dean brought his hand up to Sam's cheek, his thumb moving in a slow circle. Sam had his apologetic face on, and Dean was still processing the right words to say to Sam, the right words to fix this, to save him. 

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Dean quickly drew his hand away, turning to see Crowley.

"Aaannndd, I didn't see anything. At least, nothing I haven't seen before. Or heard before for that matter."

Dean just looked over at Sam, his eyes communicating the "We'll finish this later, okay?" as he scanned them up and down Sam, getting a read on his emotions. Sam was pretty stable, really oddly stable to be honest. Dean watched Sam as Sam looked at the paper, knowing Sam would tell him all the important things on it anyways.

Crowley looked over at Dean, raising his eyebrows at him, but Dean just glared. He never got any alone time with Sam anymore it seemed. All he wanted was five minutes, to talk, or hold each other, or something. There was always a mission though, always more news, more thunderclouds looming over head. And if for some freak reason, something did happen to Sam, Dean needed to be alone with him again before then. Needed his Sammy. Which is why he was reluctant to split up, even for a couple of hours. But he also didn't want Sam anywhere _near_ Death, so it would be worth it in the long run.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bobby knew a lot about a lot of things, so when he saw Castiel slumped and sighing all depressedly, he knew the look. But Bobby also did not feel like dealing with moody little boys right now, he'd already adopted two, and the third came with just as many problems as they did.

"What's your problem?" Cas looked down, his head hanging.

"It's a few things, actually."

"Hit me," Bobby said, his voice snide. There was no problems this kid could have that he hadn't seen before.

"Well, first off, it's. It's Dean." Castiel didn't look at him, kept his shoulders and head down. Bobby narrowed his eyes at Cas for a moment, analyzing, before he got it.

"You love 'im, don't cha?" Castiel's head shot up, his eyes wide as he stared at Bobby.

"How did you-can you read minds Bobby?" Bobby snorted, rolling his chair forward a bit.

"Hell no. I just know the look. I see it everytime Dean looks at-" Bobby stopped himself, watching the angel's head sink again. "Oh. That's it, isn't it?"

Cas nodded tightly, gripping the gun in his hand subconsciously.

"Well, I gotta tell you son, there's not much hope gettin' between those two. They've been attached at the hip since before Sam could walk."

Castiel looked up again, sighing.

"I know that Bobby, it's just that lately, after they declared their love for each other, it's been. Difficult." Bobby sat for a minute, taking in the words.

"They did what?"

"Declared their undying love for each other. Surely you knew that?"

"Well no one tells _me_ nothin anymore." Bobby rolled himself back to the duffel bag, hauling it into his lap. He was gonna have to talk to Dean about this. Dean shouldda said somethin. No wonder they were actin different lately. Bobby had thought their new united front had been to good to be true, but turns out it's quite the opposite. The bastards have gone and gotten all emotional, so now Dean was gonna be as attached as hell. Bobby knew Dean well enough to know that Dean had never _loved_ anybody like he loved Sam, and now that they knew it was mutual? The damn heavens probably couldn't pull them apart. Although they sure damn well seemed to be tryin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Bobby walked over, Dean already knew the look on Bobby's face. There was some sort of conversation Bobby had in mind. Well that was fabulous. Dean looked up, squinting at the sun.

"What do you think Death does to people who lie to his face?"

"Nothin good." Bobby sat down, leaning his elbows on the table and looking intently at Dean. "Whaddjou say?"

Dean looked at him for a moment, then shot his eyes down, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"That I was cool with Sam driving the bus on the whole Lucifer plan." Dean swigged back a drink, staring off into the distance.

"So Death thinks Sam outta say yes, huh?" Bobby's voice was a little on the curious side.

"I don't know. Yeah." Bobby made a half-assed hmph sound. Dean explained his theory on why Death would think that, cause he had been doing a lot of thinking about it and he figured it was actually pretty simple. Bobby fought back though, to Dean's surprise.

"Seriously?"

"I'm just sayin."

"Well don't." Dean needed every ally he could get right now, and Bobby was starting to scare him. "I mean, what happened to you being against this?"

Dean knew what Bobby meant though, he knew exactly what he meant, when it came to Sam having "a hell lot of good in him too." That was the whole point, actually. Sam didn't deserve this. Sammy was too good, Sammy deserved better.

Dean couldn't bring himself to look up, as Bobby explained. How Sam could do this, how this was the best they could ask for. Couldn't, just for once, Dean be allowed to ask for better? Why did it have to be him? Why was it Dean who had to lose the single most important thing in his world?

"So I gotta ask Dean. What exactly are you afraid of?" Dean looked up, Bobby's tone tipping him off. Bobby knew something, something that he hadn't before. That's why the "gotta ask," like he didn't want to, didn't want to intrude, but felt like he had to.

"Losin'? Or losin' your brother?" Dean just stared, his eyes stone cold, but not for Bobby. For whatever evil thing out there was doing this to him, turning his world to carnage. Dean swallowed the lump that was building in his throat. Crying right now would not help anything.

"I can't. I can't lose him Bobby." Bobby just looked at him, waiting for Dean to go on. Dean looked down at his hands, clasped together on the table like how Sam did when he was lonely. He summoned the courage to look up, to face the only father he had right now, and to tell him something that could possibly end everything they had ever done together. But Dean felt that Bobby deserved to know. Dean looked at Bobby, his eyes watering as he opened his mouth.

"I love him, Bobby." Bobby pursed his lips together and nodded slowly. Dean jumped as Bobby reached his hands out, placing them on Dean's. 

"I know, son. I know." Dean's head hung as his last fight against his own walls broke down. Tears sprung from his eyes and his body began wracking with sobs. One of Bobby's hands reached up and clasped Dean's shoulder, holding him firmly. Suddenly Bobby's grip was gone, then Dean was being hauled up from his chair and pulled into a hug. Dean let himself cry, let himself lose it onto Bobby's shoulder. He gripped the poor man so tightly Bobby probably couldn't breathe, but Bobby didn't let go. 

They stood there for some time before Dean finally got a hold of himself, his tears slowing to a stop, and his shaking body calming back to normal. Dean pulled away, keeping a hand on Bobby's arm and wiping his face with the other.

"Thanks," Dean said, the sincerity in his eyes breaking something in Bobby.

"Well, now you got me all wet with emotions, princess," Bobby joked, wiping at his own eyes which had been leaking tears as well. Dean smiled weakly, and Bobby clapped him on the shoulder.

"It'll be alright, Dean. Just you wait and see."


	44. Cessation (Swan Song  05x22)

When Dean woke up, Sam wasn't wrapped around him anymore. Dean rolled over and got dressed quickly, which wasn't hard since he was still in a tshirt and boxers. He'd finally gotten some alone time with Sam last night, which consisted of a lot of cuddling and a bit of kissing too. Neither one of them pushed for more, they both just relished the warmth of each other. Dean walked out to where he knew Sam would be, sitting on the hood of the impala to think.

"Hey," Sam greeted him as Dean walked into sight, reaching down and pulling a beer from the cooler. He felt Sam sigh behind him as Dean propped himself up against the side of the car, a little scared to be actually facing Sam when he said this.

"Dean?" Sam asked, shifting his body to try to see Dean's face. Dean hadn't even said anything. "What's goin on?"

Dean took a moment to breathe, not letting himself think about the gravity of his next words.

"I'm in."

Sam turned on the hood as Dean explained, scooting his body slightly closer to Dean's and gazing off at the same nothing in the distance.

"I'm telling you though, it goes against every fiber I've got. I need you, Sam. And I mean, truth is, watchin out for you? It's kind of been my job, you know. More than that. It's, it's kinda who I am."

Sam looked over at Dean, at the pride in his voice at the words "it's kinda who I am." Like Dean knew who he was, and he would never choose to be anything different. Like he was somehow proud, honored to get the annoying task of looking out for the most damned person on this earth. Like he was Dean's most treasured possession, and the best definition to define himself. "Who are you?" "I'm Sam Winchester's everything."

"I don't know if we have a snowball's chance. But I do know, that if anyone can do it, it's you."

Sam nodded. Dean believed it, he did. Dean never said anything he didn't mean, and even if he tried to, Sam could see right through him. But somehow, somehow Dean actually meant this. Dean thought that of everyone in the world, Sam was the only one strong enough to take this. Dean believed in him. That mattered more, meant more, to Sam than Dean loving him.

"Thank you," Sam said, knowing the words weren't enough to portray everything he felt. But Dean knew that too, and nodded, knowing Sam was thanking him for a lot more than just this conversation.

"If this is what you want." Dean moved his gaze from the ground over to Sam. "Is this really what you want?"

_Do you really want to leave me? Leave me alone in this world, without you? Sacrifice yourself, sacrifice our love, sacrifice my future. To save the world. Do you want this, Sam, or do you want me? Do you really want me? Is that why you're doing this?_

But Sam couldn't answer those questions out loud until Dean asked them. 

"I'm the one who let him out. I gotta put him back in."

Dean's eyes traveled over Sam's body, like he was taking him in, one last time.

"Okay." Dean turned away, nodding to himself. "That's it then."

Dean had heard all of the answers to his questions. He knew this was the end. He just didn't know if he could live through it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

There was one reason. Just one.

It was the one reason that would save the world.

Sam looked at that toy soldier, and he saw it all. Rewatched a play by play of his life.

And the one thing his life consisted of?

That one reason?

Dean.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dean wasn't surprised when he looked over again to the shotgun seat, seeing it empty this time. He glanced into the back seat, just in case. That was empty too.

"You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?"

It was the last thing Dean would say to Cas in a long time. There was a part of him that needed Cas, needed any comfort he could get. But Dean couldn't let himself be around anything that could make him happy. What right did Dean have to be happy when Sam was burning in Lucifer's pit? Dean didn't deserve Cas, didn't deserve the glimmer of hope Castiel used to give him. So he let the angel go, sliding the memories away. Dean had already lost everything today, he might as well lose a little more. Castiel would remind him of Sam, too, and everything he saw already did that anyways, he could do without the extra collateral damage.

But Dean would keep his promise, he'd go to Lisa. He didn't want to be happy, and he never truly would be with her. With anyone, he was fairly sure. Not so long as Sam was dead. He may come close, but it'd never last. 

Dean would never last. Because Dean, he'd just lost everything. His father, his angel, his allies, and his brother. The other half of his soul, the light in his eyes. His spirit and his reason for getting up in the morning. 

This was it. The cessation. This was the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annddd there is a tumblr blog where you can follow and get the updates of Stumbling on your dashboard, as well as videos and gifs and pictures and edits and yay! xx
> 
> http://flybynightgirl.tumblr.com/
> 
> P.S. I cried in Swan Song. A lot.


	45. Shimmering (Exile on Main St.  06x01)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the song "Sad Dream" by Sky Ferreira.
> 
> The link to the youtube audio can be found here:
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIDpQXKLfB0
> 
> (This chapter is based off that song so yeah)

It started out with the bright glare of the sun, burning hot on his golden skin. Dean blinked away the sun spots, his vision coming into focus. Everything was bathed in a golden light, the trees green and glittering gold. Water droplets were dewing to the grass under his bare feet, those sparking with gold too. A mild gust of wind fluttered his hair, filtering through the lazy spikes. The breeze felt good on Dean's bare chest, which was already baking a dark shade of gold from the summer sun.

The air itself smelled like summer, like freedom and warmth and green trees. Dean could barely keep his feet on the ground, pounding his feet against the soft grass as he ran, his laughter being caught and swirled in the wind, echoing around him and joined by the sweetest sound of another laugh. Dean turned his head, looking over his shoulder to see long hair being tugged at by the wind. Dean laughed again, the smile on his face bigger than he can remember it ever being. Sam's bare chest was gleaming golden too, his face lit up with the same summertime joy as Dean's. Sam was gaining on him, his newly long legs catching up to Dean for the first time. Dean turned back to look where he was going, his gaze set on the wooden dock about thirty feet away.

Beyond the grayed and weathered dock lay the most exquisitely beautiful lake Dean had ever seen. It shimmered and sparkled under the sun, the reflections of the trees lining the water rippling with a tiny tide. It wasn't deep, or huge, but perfect. Green and blue, with a bit of brown mixed in. Just like Sammy's eyes. Dean tossed his head over his shoulder again, his mind suddenly becoming extremely distracted by the beautiful boy running a few feet behind him.

Sam flicked his head to the side, a piece of hair in his eyes flying back in the wind like the rest. Dean couldn't help but stare, his grin widening as his little brother shone with youth and joy and his new muscles, his new height. Sam was exactly as tall as Dean now, for the first time. This was the only month they would ever stand eye to eye.

It was weird for Dean at first, being able to look at Sammy without looking down. But he secretly loved it, loved being able to have someone that was a friend, his size, instead of just having someone to look out for. It was a new Sam to him, and one he was appreciating a lot.

But Dean's treacherous thoughts made him lose his gain on Sam, and Sam brushed passed him, their bare shoulders touching for a moment as Sam threw back his head and laughed, his bare feet kicking up as he sped ahead of Dean. Dean grinned and upped his speed, gaining on his little brother again. Sam's back muscles, still young and under developed, but heading somewhere, rippled as he pumped his arms, trying to keep his few second lead. Dean pushed forward more, the grass underfoot slippery, but still grip-able.

Their laughter was swept away, mingling as one in the wind. It felt like one too, just the two of them, but somehow still just one person. They'd reached the dock, and Dean had caught his lead back. They ran side by side, sprinting for the edge. Sam shouted happily as they reached the end of the wood, jumping up in the air together and soaring above the water.

The water was cool, but refreshing. Dean popped his head back up above the surface, smiling as he saw Sam come up and shake his head wildly, like a dog, to get his hair under some sort of organization. The wet strands still hung in his face and Sam brushed them aside with his hand. Then he looked over at Dean, caught him staring, and laughed, splashing some water in Dean's direction. Dean ducked his head from the splash, his shoulders sinking deeper in the water. Then he began to tread again, forward a bit until his feet found purchase on the lake's bottom. He stood on his tiptoes, half bouncing and half treading water. He cupped his hand in the water, flicking his wrist to send a splash of water in Sam's direction.

Sam laughed again, ducking his head under, disappearing for a moment before suddenly resurfacing a foot in front of Dean. Dean reached out to splash him again, but Sam lunged forward and grabbed Dean's wrist, using his momentum to flip Dean forwards and dunk him under. Sam's hands shoved Dean's shoulders down further under water, and Dean grabbed his ankles, dragging Sam down with him. They both came up out of the water sputtering, with grins on their faces. They both were still for a moment, Sam looking up at the sky and the trees, taking in the beautiful golden earth. Dean watched Sam's eyes, bright with curiosity and joy and intelligence, taking in the beautiful golden boy. Then Sam turned his gaze back to Dean, his mouth in a side smile. Dean couldn't remember anything that was wrong with the earth, couldn't think a single bad thought. It was all just Sam, and nothing could exist in the same universe as Sam and be wrong.

Then Sam dived forward, his hands on Dean's chest, pushing him backwards as Dean grabbed a hold of Sam's shoulders, flipping each other over in the water, their legs getting caught in each other as they laughed and wrestled. Suddenly Dean had the upperhand, pushing Sam down, down onto the carpeted rug of the apartment.

The golden light was gone, replaced by the silver darkness of the room. Dean had his hands on Sam's shoulders, pinning Sam to the ground with his hands now on Sam's throat. Sam's floppy hair was taken by gravity, flying back like the wind had taken ahold of it.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was older now, years older. He may be on the ground, but he was taller than Dean now. Dean's heart was pounding out of his chest but he couldn't help but smile.

"Woah, easy there tiger." Then Sam's legs wrapped around his again, entangling their bodies and making Dean lose all coherent thought. Then he was on the ground, looking up at Sam, who had turned the tables. The warmth of Sam was making Dean dizzy, but he wanted to stay this way forever. Sam put his hands on Dean's jacket and pulled him to his feet, no longer bare, in hunting boots now, standing on the rug of Sam's apartment in Stanford. Sam's hands were still on his chest as he made sure Dean was steady.

Then the scene changed again and Sam's hands were on his chest, checking him for injuries as Dean watched his brother's hands run over his body, watching Sam and wishing he had the words to say what he wanted to. But when he opened his mouth, no words came out, and the world swirled around again, of Sam's hands on his skin, bare skin, their bodies pressed close together as Dean tried to breathe but found he couldn't. Then Sam's hands, still planted on his chest, were lifting him up, high off the ground. Dean flew, out of Sam's grip, slamming up against the windshield. Sam's hands were on him, bruising him, breaking every bone, every memory. And then they weren't anymore, and Sam's last touch was one that caused him more pain than he had ever felt. Sam backed up, his face contorting as he whispered.

"It's gonna be okay, Dean. I got him." Then wind, more wind, and Sammy was gone, his brother was gone, gone, down in hell, in the fire, the burning wet red flames that swirled Dean's vision.

His eyes flew open, his heart pounding. Dean stared at the ceiling now, back in reality, the dream over.

He hated waking up every morning and looking up. He wished he could somehow have the ground be the first thing his eyes saw when he woke, wished he didn't start every day with his eyes on the sky.

Dean didn't like to look up. Up was further away, up made the distance bigger between Dean and the ground. The ground, which was the only thing separating Dean from him. Separating Dean from Sam.

Dean put his hand in his hair, staring at nothing because there was nothing. Nothing anywhere. The trees weren't green anymore, they hadn't been for a year. The birds didn't sing, they just made sound. Cars didn't ride, they just drifted. Nothing was everywhere.

Because the world was nothing when there was only one half of you on it.

 

 

 

 

(It's not exact but it reminded me and cries)


	46. Manipulating (Two and a Half Men  06x02)

Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd found something cute, but that was definitely the best word for Dean right now. He was coaxing the baby into sitting still, actually changing its diaper and everything. It had been a long time since Sam had genuinely smiled, but his mouth curved up into a grin as he watched Dean.

Dean was a good father, and Sam could help but let his mind drift as he watched him. He could imagine a different scenario, where the kidnapped baby was actually adopted instead, by Sam and Dean. Sam wondered what it would be like, to raise a child with Dean. Or more importantly, to be with Dean as a couple. Or just to be with Dean. To get to own that sweet curve of ass, make it all his. His to do with whatever he pleased. Sam's eyes followed it as Dean rose from the side of the bed, then his humming drew Sam's eyes upwards.

Dean was lightly rocking the kid, humming Deep Purple and cradling the kid to his chest with his huge hands. Sam couldn't help but smile at the adorable image of Dean as a daddy. He decided he'd bring it up, mention the idea and see what Dean thought. Of them, together, raising a kid or something. 

"You're like, father material." Sam kept his eyes on Dean as Dean moved around the room. He used to avert his gaze regularly, made a point not to stare. But he didn't really care anymore about whether Dean minded him staring. He didn't really care about them being brothers anymore either. Actually, he couldn't care less. Why did it ever matter in the first place?

"Well, I've kinda had to be lately. Sink or swim." Dean's voice was different, and Sam tilted his head.

"You mean Ben." Dean looked up at Sam, his face kind of curious.

"Yeah, I mean Ben." Sam turned his gaze back down, his mood epically ruined. Lisa and Ben were becoming a major nuisance. Sam wanted Dean, wanted his brother in every way he ever had, and in twenty thousand more. And Lisa and Ben were standing in his way.

Sam knew that Dean and the pre-pit Sammy had been in love, and that was saying a lot, considering he couldn't remember a lot of what feelings from the past were supposed to feel like. But when Sam came back, lying in that field in Kansas, he still had one thing left inside him, just one thing that didn't consist of emptiness or animal instinct. Sam had this thought that wouldn't leave him, he had to carry it around everywhere. It was this feeling for Dean, not exactly the love that he'd felt before, but something. A desire, a need. And some sort of pressure to not disappoint Dean. That was all that Sam had for ingredients of building himself, the rest had to come from scratch and what people assumed from Sam's memories of the past.

But what annoyed Sam the most was how different Dean was acting around him. Sam knew that he had been acting different too, but he was expecting a bit more than this. Sam hadn't started the conversation with the intention of manipulating Dean, but he was pushed over the edge. It was the way Dean had said "we" when he starting talking about their childhood. Dean said "we" different now, it was a casual word with no more of that hidden meaning. _We_ used to be said like it was a poem in itself, just for getting to represent the greatest love of all time, just in one word. But now it was just tossed out, like Dean didn't want Sam to be the other half of his precious "we" anymore. 

Sam set his face to annoyed-mode, turning Dean's words around on him.

"You sure about that?" Now Sam had a new mission. He was going to do, say, anything it takes to get Dean to leave Lisa. Even if it meant the whole "she deserves better than you" card. It was a low move, but Sam, again, really didn't care. It was all rough and dirty play now, everything was fair game.

And there was no way that Sam was going to let Dean slip away from him again. He'd take his brother back, he'd get him. Sooner or later, Dean Winchester would be _his_.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They were pacing circles around each other absentmindedly, which Sam found ridiculously ironic. They were literally standing in a metaphor for their lives, Dean clutching tightly to the helpless kid, not even noticing his feet following Sam's, and Sam intently staring down Dean's back, tracking after him like his life depended on it.

"C'mon Bobby John, you have got to be quiet." Dean rocked the baby up and down, trying to silence the kid. Sam resisted the urge to just take Bobby John from Dean and put him on the floor, freeing up Dean's hands so Sam could pin them up against the salt coated walls. But he didn't, all in good time. Dean was still much too attached, his head was too far out of it for anything yet. But Sam could wait. He was a good hunter, he was patient. He'd find the perfect opportunity, timing it just right before he jumped his prey. Sam was good at this now, and he knew it too. Dean would be a challenge, but Sam always liked those.


	47. Catechized (The Third Man  06x03)

Dean tried to ignore the look on Sam's face, tried to pretend it wasn't smugness he saw as Sam turned on his heel.

"Better for everybody." It was hardly a subtle comment, but Dean figured that pushing Sam on what exactly he meant by that would tell Dean things he really didn't want to know.

"Yeah, I spose." He quickly changed the topic, a little scared by the look in Sam's eyes. He looked proud, triumphant even. Like he'd just won something. Dean was probably over thinking this all, but that didn't make him any less worried.

There was another change too, and this one bothered him even more. Sam was walking in front of him now. Just a step ahead, the space between them a few inches more than it used to be. And it used to be Dean in front, always, no matter what. It was his job to protect Sam. But then here Sam was, walking like a cocky son of a bitch, forcing Dean to follow him. It made Dean extremely uncomfortable, Sam taking charge like this. When it was occasional, it was damn hot, but this just seemed to be natural for Sam now. Dean never thought there'd be a day that his brother didn't fall into step behind him, that Sam would insist on leading the way.

It was a little while later that Dean saw the opportunity to take back what was his, to set things straight to how they should be. Sam was pulling around the corner in his plastic piece of crap, and if Dean floored it, he'd make it in front of Sam. In the lead, like he belonged. 

The Impala happily drifted around the turn, cutting in front of Sam and stopping quickly, forcing his little brother to resume his rightful place, letting Dean lead again. Dean got out of his car smugly, sauntering up to the door a step ahead of Sam. Sam stopped in the driveway though, turning to Dean.

"Were you, uh. Were you racing me?" Sam catechized. Dean scoffed, not turning his head as he responded.

"No. I was kicking your ass." Sam probably flashed his side grin at that, Dean didn't see because he was still stone-set forward. Well, he was one second, then the next he had been spun around and was facing Sam, Sam's hand now planted on his shoulder. The kid was damn fast.

"Actually, Dean, you don't always have to be in charge you know. I bet you I could take you any day." Dean tilted his head, his eyebrows going up to imply that he wasn't quite sure what Sam was talking about. Sam smirked and leaned forward, his voice sarcastic in Dean's ear.

"Let's just say that next time, it'll be _your_ ass that's aching." Sam straightened back up, suddenly seeming a lot taller than Dean remembered. Dean swallowed, his eyes going wide as Sam looked at him innocently before stepping over to the side a bit. Sam walked forward, his shoulder brushing against Dean's chest and turning him in the process, basically forcing Dean's body to follow Sam's as he moved. Dean had no idea what the meaning was behind Sam's words, but it was causing a minor mental breakdown in his head. Sam could just be talking about racing, but for some reason, Dean had a feeling it was about a lot more than that. The whole, take charge, your ass aching, thing, it was pretty much implying a lot of other things. Things that Dean had been keeping out for a long time now, and were suddenly just brought up again. But the worst part was that Sam didn't even say it, he just worded it perfectly to make Dean think it. Which meant that if Dean said something, technically the blame would be on him for initiating this again. 

Dean was so caught up in trying to figure Lisa out right now, he hadn't been worrying about Sam and his relationship much. Dean figured that intense scrutiny could wait, and he was pretty sure Sam would understand. Well, Sam would've at one point. The way Sam was acting lately though, Dean wasn't so sure anymore. And it was scaring him a bit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a big part of Dean that wanted to just leave it be, but the look on Sam's face was enough to sour a jar of honey. Dean sighed, looking up from his glass.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Sam bit the inside of his lip, glaring at the table like it had committed murder.

"Seriously Sam, what's up with you?"

Sam literally like exploded, jumping up and sending his chair flying backwards, his hands thrown into the air.

"I don't know, Dean, it couldn't possibly be that Cas and his 'profound bond' decided to show up out of nowhere." Dean sat his drink down and leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

"This is about Cas?" Sam put his hands on his hips, exacerbated. 

"Yes, Dean, this is about Cas. I mean, the guy shows up out of nowhere after being gone for a friggin year, and all of the sudden you two are buttbuddies? I mean, what the hell man?"

Dean put his hands up, patting at the air in some motion to stop Sam.

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down there Sammy. Nobody's buttbuddies with anyone."

"Yeah, well, he sure acts like it. Have you seen the way he looks at you Dean? It's like he wants to consume you, lock you in his basement and carry you around in a little jar with him every where he goes."

Dean raised his glass to his lips, muttering to himself, "It's not like you look at me any differently." 

Sam froze at that though. Shit, how the hell had Sam heard that? Sam just looked down at Dean, who took this moment to tip his head back and finish the drink, breaking his eye contact with his brother. When he looked at Sam again, Sam sighed overdramatically, his shoulders rising and falling heavily.

"Whatever. He just makes me uncomfortable, okay? Something is up with him, I can just tell. I mean, not seeing either of us for a year and showing up all of a sudden? There's something he's not telling us, Dean, and if you weren't so fawn eyed over him, maybe you'd see it too." Sam reached down and closed his laptop, looking at Dean one more time before turning his back and leaving the room. Dean just reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass. He needed it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"The footsteps I'm following, they're yours. What you did, stopping the big plan. The prize fight. You did more than rebel. You tore up the whole script and burned the pages for all of us." Balthazar circled around Castiel, his words punctuated clearly with his crisp British accent.

"It's a new era. No rules, no destiny, just utter and complete freedom." Castiel turned to Balthazar, his voice upset. Balthazar knew his brother well, knew the look in his eyes. He had been standing beside Castiel as he layed his hand on his charge, Balthazar had seen the physical sparks that went off. He had watched his brother's eyes flash, and had been there over the next few months, in heaven, watching Castiel's walls deteriorate. Balthazar had been witness to Castiel falling, falling from the graces of heaven into the eyes of a human. He knew how Castiel felt about Dean. He knew Castiel was in love. And he knew that was the soul reason Castiel had rebelled.

"And this is what you do with it?"

"Look, Castiel, we each have our different motives. You, you did this all out of a human emotion that wormed its way into your heart. You are in _love_ Castiel, and it has changed you. See, me? I have a human emotion too, mine's just not quite as pinkish as yours. I have this thing, they call it greed? I mean, why not have everything? So you choose love, I choose greed, I see no problem with it. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? Dance is not coming back."

Castiel didn't turn to follow Balthazar with his eyes as he walked behind him. It was a sore spot for Castiel, he knew, but hey, everything was a sore spot now a days, wasn't it?


	48. Enticed (Weekend at Bobby's  06x04)

"Bobby, what the hell."

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"You are the one person I can talk to about this stuff. About-about Sam, about leavin Lisa and Ben, I-I don't even know which way is up right now. You're the only one who knows about how I feel about Sam, and Cas sure as hell isn't gonna talk about it. I just- I need your help right now. Bobby? Hello?"

"I hear you son, it just ain't a good time."

"You know what, forget it. Baring my soul like a freakin girl here, and uh, and you got stuff to do. That is, that's fine. That's fine. Seriously though, a little selfish. Not all about you." Dean was trying not to overreact but he _needed_ Bobby right now, he was dying over here with his brother. And it was approximately never that Dean opened up and talked about his feelings, and the first time he does for year, Bobby's busy. Of course.

"Where's your brother?" Dean looked up to check, but he could feel that Sam hadn't left. 

"Outside."

"Get 'im."

Dean and Sam both sat in silence as Bobby spoke, or well, yelled. Sam had his elbows propped up on his knees as he leaned forward, his composure collected and nonchalant. Dean held the phone between them, cringing as Bobby mentioned the fact that he had been bitching about Sam.

Sam looked up at Dean, his face dangerously close. He tilted his head with his question, and Dean answered it with his eyes, looking back down. Sam was looking at Dean concerned now, like he was actually worried for Dean. It was interesting, because Sam had been showing basically negative amounts of emotions over here, but when it came to him finding out about Dean talking about him in secret, he was suddenly all enticed. 

When they got onto the plane for Scotland, Dean was having major deja vu in addition to his minor panic attack. The only difference was that this time he was sitting in the seat against the window, per Sam's insistence. Sam practically herded him into the seat, his hands on both of Dean's upper arms. Dean tried to shrug him off, but Sam was way stronger than he was, and he suddenly felt very small and trapped. Sam definitely had the upper hand here. He could do with Dean whatever he pleased, and Dean was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to stop Sam.

"You gonna hum 'tallica?" Sam teased, his fingertips brushing against Dean's bicep. Dean looked down at Sam's hand before he looked back up at his chiseled face.

"I think I'll be fine, thanks," Dean said, smiling tightly. Sam just scoffed at him, turning to face forward in his seat. He let his fingers run down Dean's arm before they returned to his clasped hands in his lap. Dean had to make a conscious effort not to flinch. The plane lurched, and Dean grabbed for the arm rest, his hand grabbing Sam's arm instead. Sam's arm had totally not been there three milliseconds ago. It was like Sam moved it as he knew Dean would grab the arm rest, just so Dean would accidentally grab him instead. Dean drew his hands back, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over at Sam.

"You okay?" Sam asked, his voice concerned but his eyes smug. Dean just nodded, turning his head back to the front. This was going to be a horrible plane ride.

"So what were you talking to Bobby about?" Sam turned in his seat to face Dean, his foot moving with his body, to rest in between Dean's, which made Sam's knee press up against Dean's thigh. Dean swallowed, managing to look out the window for three seconds before deciding that the swirling clouds were a worse fate than facing Sam.

"Just stuff. Don't worry about it." Sam nodded, looking down. Then he leaned forward, his hand landing over Dean's heart.

"You know you can tell me anything, right Dean?" Dean was frozen, his heart pounding fast and loud enough for Sam to surely feel under his palm. He stared at Sam's deeply intense hazel eyes for a moment, wondering why his pupils were blown so wide. And how it had been possible for Sam to somehow gain even more muscle in the year they'd been apart. Then he was flashed back to reality as Sam's gaze broke from his, Sam's eyes darting down obviously. Dean licked his lips subconsciously, then instantly regretted it, realizing that's exactly what Sam was looking at. Dean drew back in his chair, adding a few more inches between them and making it difficult for Sam to keep his hand over Dean's heart.

"Yeah, I know, Sam," Dean managed to fake his tone enough to get Sam to back off. Sam looked at him for another moment, his eyes switching back up to Dean's eyes before he pulled away. Dean let out a breath he'd been holding and stared straight forward in his seat. The plane chose that exact moment to hit turbulence or whatever, and everything Dean had eaten over the past few days threatened to come back up. 

Dean doubled over, putting a hand on his mouth. Sam had a hand on his back in less than a second, his other hand holding out a trash bag. Dean took it gratefully, then managed to bring up last night's dinner into the bag. Sam rubbed his back, and Dean closed off his complicated mind to just appreciate the touch for a moment. When his eyes were closed and his back was arching up into Sam's hands, it felt like how it used to, how Sam's touch could soothe even the darkest memories or thoughts away from his mind. Sam's touch had been anything but soothing once he got back from the pit, but Dean couldn't deny how good it was to have Sam here with him right now. He'd probably die if he had to do this with anyone else.

After about an hour of feeling sick or hurling, Dean's stomach finally calmed down. He went to the plane bathroom, rinsing his mouth out and splashing cold water on his face. That was the fastest and easiest way for Dean to clear his head. 

When he climbed back into his seat, Sam tucked his foot around Dean's ankle, pinning his leg into the seat. It was partially terrifying but also partially comforting, so Dean decided he'd just not comment and deal with it. His body was wrecked from the continuous seizing of his abdominal muscles, and he was way more tired than he usually was at this hour. Dean's eyes drifted close for just a moment, but he shot them back open. He didn't want to fall asleep, he already felt extremely vulnerable right now. It happened again a few minutes later, and this time he shook his head awake. Sam must have noticed, because there was suddenly a Sam-sized hand on his thigh, gently squeezing his leg. Dean shut his eyes tight, refusing to be overwhelmed by everything that was tearing at him, his fear and his confusion and Sam and this goddamn plane and why was he so tired?

The next thing Dean knew, he was blinking his eyes open. His head was pressed up against Sam's collarbone, Sam's arm slung around his shoulders. Sam's head was resting on the top of Dean's, or else Dean would've jumped and darted out of the seat. Sam didn't feel like he was sleeping though, based on the breathing patterns of Sam's chest that Dean could feel against his cheek.

"Mmm, Sam?" Dean's voice was scratchy, how it always was when he just woke up. Sam lifted his head off of Dean's, some of his long silky hair brushing against Dean's temple.

"Hey, Dean, how'd you sleep?" Sam's voice was low, lower than it had been, and it was sending Dean's mind off another emotional cliff. Sam didn't even apologize, no "hey, sorry for mobbing you in your sleep" or anything. Just all smug like he had every right to wrap himself around Dean when Dean wasn't aware.

Dean pulled his head up, ignoring the throb behind his eyes. He brought his hand to his face, wiping it over his eyes and running it down his mouth. 

"How do you think?" _Maybe I would've slept better if I hadn't been involuntarily cuddled in my sleep_. Dean thought the words, but knew they weren't true. Sam was the only reason he'd gotten any rest at all. But Sam didn't need to know that. 

Sam just grinned as Dean turned his head up to look at him. Dean sat looking at him for a moment before he realized that Sam's arm was still around him. He pushed himself off of Sam's chest, shaking his shoulders free of Sam's arm. He glared at Sam for a moment before he scooted over, making an inch or two of space between their bodies.

"I'm not four you know," Dean said angrily.

"I wasn't treating you like you were four, Dean. God, you overreact to everything, you know that?" Dean was a little taken aback by Sam's biting words. He looked down at his hands with guilt. Maybe he was being a little harsh. Sam was just trying to help him after all.

"Sorry, I just, the plane. It's making me really, um, uncomfortable." The plane dipped a little bit in the sky, making Dean throw his body back in the seat, reaching out and digging his fingers into Sam's leg. Sam laughed lightly and pried Dean's fingers from his thigh, keeping his hand locked around Dean's wrist instead. Dean closed his eyes and let Sam hold his wrist. It wasn't like they were being coupley and holding hands or anything, it was just a little warmth and comfort from familiar hands. And besides, it was Dean's wrist, not his hand. So not a big deal, right?

It was weird, just like that, they started to fall back into old routines. All of them had a slight twist to them though. They'd reach for each other for comfort, and sit close, but it was a lot less out of what if felt like it used to be. Everything had this sort of yearning undertone, like it was out of sexual desire now instead of what it had been before, which Dean was pretty sure was some form of love.

It was good to be close to Sam again, although it was sending mixed signals to his brain. Part of him felt like this was cheating, not really on Lisa, but on the dedicated relationship he had formed a year ago. With his Sammy. This Sam felt like a different person, and it felt wrong somehow. But it was still his Sam, his mind and his hands and his eyes and his signature way of calling Dean's name. Something was off, but Dean couldn't place it, and it scared him. So his body wanted Sam badly, but his mind was running full speed in the opposite direction. Which left room for a lot of disaster. And Dean was sure that was exactly what was to come: disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the change in feel of the show when Eric Kripke kind of left-ish is giving me a hard time connecting and writing well, so odds are, it'll be a little bit before I get back in gear. But I have some lovely ideas for soulless Sam, it's going to be awesome. 
> 
> I try to stick as much to my headcanons as possible, so the fic is more realistic and such. thank you for reading! xx


	49. Addling (Live Free or Twihard   06x05)

Sam was attempting to actually get some work done here, but Dean was being as distracting as ever. Sam had the computer opened up, thinking of passwords he could use to get in. Dean was wandering, judging everything and addling with Sam's mind.

"Look at this, he's watching her sleep. How's that not rapey?" Sam looked over at Dean for a moment before turning back to the computer login.

"I gotta concentrate here, Dean." Sam didn't think that watching people sleep was "rapey" even though that wasn't a word. Sam watched Dean sleep. All the time, actually. He'd even done it before he got out of the pit, although that was for different reasons. He used to watch Dean sleep because it was the only time it felt safe to analyze him. Sam didn't care what Dean or anyone else thought now, so he stared at Dean whenever he liked. So when Sam watched Dean sleep now, it was out of fascination and boredom, having nothing else to do but observe his intriguing brother's odd sleeping habits. Dean was so peaceful when he slept sometimes. Other times, it was nightmares, thrashing and sweating and calling out Sam's name. Sam just layed in the other bed, tilting his head with curiosity as Dean begged for Sam in his sleep. Sam wondered how exactly Lisa had reacted when Dean did this. Or maybe it was just because Sam was back, but out of reach. That was something Sam liked to analyze at night. So watching people sleep was not rapey.

Dean wandered a few steps away from Sam before he started reading something.

"He could hear the blood rushing inside her, almost taste it. He tried desperately to control himself, Bromaro knew their love was impossible - Bromaro, really?" Sam wasn't in the mood to listen to Dean's heartfelt story telling, especially considering that it was bringing back memories. Old habits die hard, I guess, so the mention of bloodlust was not exactly a comfortable subject. Plus the whole unrequited love topic, that had been a soft spot for Sam for a long time. Dean should really listen to what he said before he said it.

"Dean, shut up." Sam even turned around to say it, taking a quick glance at Dean. Dean was turned around, so Sam's eyes briefly grazed down Dean's body appreciatively before he turned back to his password hacking.

Dean was muttering and complaining something about a bestseller, but Sam was still testing out more passwords. Then Dean spoke again, facing Sam for a moment.

"Hey try, uh, Lautner." Sam typed it in before he registered who that was. How did Dean know who Taylor Lautner was? The guy was like a teen idol pop star sex icon. Sam had never seen a picture of the guy with his shirt on. Unless Dean was now into the tan, abs covered type of porn. Which would be interesting.

"Wait, he's a werewolf. How do you even know who that is?" Sam turned around, Dean's wide muscular shoulders catching his gaze this time.

"Are you kidding me? That kid's everywhere. It's a freakin nightmare." Well that ruled out the gay porn option. Oh well.

Dean didn't have to be watching porn in order for Sam to know exactly how Dean felt. It was obvious, in the way he talked, in the way he looked at Sam when Sam wasn't looking. Or even when Sam was. Dean was definitely, positively, interested in Sam. He reeked of desire, of fighting the urge to just push his plump pink lips on Sam's own. It was kind of funny to observe, Dean's internal battle. His girl, or Sam. It used to not even be a question, but Sam knew that his new personality confused Dean a lot. But confusion just made for a more complex and fun relationship, because Dean was back into the mode of second-guessing his feelings for Sam. Which would make Sam's final victory all the much sweeter.


	50. Discombobulated (You Can't Handle the Truth  06x06)

"You hear that, Cas?" Dean wasn't expecting a reply as he got up to refill his drink. He froze as he turned and saw the familiar trenchcoat, his angel standing before him again.

"Hello Dean."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean walked forward, closing the space between them and not bothering to keep the anger out of his voice. Castiel had ditched him twice now, and then he just shows up out of nowhere because he needs Dean's information. It was worse than a slap to the face, it was like someone had put a bb gun round through his chest. Not to mention that Dean was dying over here with Sam, and Castiel was being of absolutely no help. Dean counted on Cas, and where was he?

"I have been on Red Alert here about Sam, and you come for some stupid horn?" 

"You asked me to be here, and I came." Castiel was shaking his head, trying to portray that this wasn't his fault. It was absolutely, 100% his fault.

"I've been asking you to be here for days, you dick." Dean had been praying to Cas practically non-stop, but Castiel either wasn't listening or wasn't caring. Probably more like wasn't caring. And that hurt even more than the fact that Cas wasn't helping him with Sam. What hurt the most was his absence, and his ignoring Dean. Dean _needed_ Cas right now, his life was a mess, and the angel was _ignoring_ him.

Castiel just looked at him for a moment before looking down guiltily. He had trouble forming words at first, but he eventually spoke again.

"I didn't come about Sam." Castiel looked up at Dean again. "Because I have nothing to offer about Sam."

"Well that's great, cause for all we know, he's just gift-wrap for Lucifer." 

"No, he's," Castiel turned his head again, reaching behind him and picking up the bottle of alcohol. "He's not Lucifer."

Castiel stepped forward, his eyes still avoiding Dean's. Dean knew Cas, knew he was trying to tame his emotions. Just like how he used to. The dick was acting like an angel again and frankly Dean missed the old Cas, even if it had gotten complicated between him and Sam because of it. Dean would take the awkward sexual tension, he'd take the angry outbursts of Sam complaining about Dean and Cas being buttbuddies, which they weren't, and he'd take the longing and the complications, so long as he got to have his Castiel back. The one that actually cared about him.

"And how do you know that?" Castiel sighed, standing closer now, reaching out with the bottle and pouring it in Dean's glass. It was a weirdly coupley thing to do, and Dean watched the process with fascination. Castiel hesitated at first, like he recognized what this looked like. Castiel's hand was steady as he touched the tip of the glass with the bottle, making a pretty clink sound. He poured Dean what Dean figured was exactly an ounce, based on the fact that Cas was an angel and probably did everything by serving size. 

"If Lucifer escaped the cage, we'd feel it." Dean looked at Cas's eyes for a moment, letting the words soak in, before his eyes automatically latched on Cas's lips, making him guiltily look down. So Sam wasn't Lucifer. Fan-freaking-tastic. If he wasn't Lucifer, then what the hell was he? Dean didn't particularly like coming to Cas about things that were Sam-related, but Sam was part of Dean, and Cas helped _all_ of Dean, so it had to be this way. Dean looked back up at Cas, the worry in his voice not nearly enough to portray how he felt.

"What is wrong with him?" Dean blinked rapidly, trying to clear any chance of tears from his head. It worked. 

"I don't know Dean. I'm sorry." Castiel shook his head a little. He truly did look sorry. But sorry never fixed anything, especially not freak brothers who scared you half to death. 

Dean's eyes flitted back and forth between Castiel's. He's heard Cas use that line before, the way that he said "I'm sorry" was exactly the way he'd said it once before. And that had been when he had been on heaven's shock collar, following orders and fighting against his human emotions. This was feeling like that same heartbreak all over again. Dean could already feel the hole in his chest where part of his heart had been, the part that Castiel had taken, then burned when he decided to go back to heaven. To leave Dean and return to his original dickhead self.

"What happened to you, Cas?" Dean never let his emotions show on his face, but it was like he didn't have control over it when he was around Cas. He could practically see his own pain, written all over his features. Part of Dean had loved Castiel, and that part of Dean had been broken in two, or three or four. It wasn't fair. Dean couldn't do this without him, he'd spent a year without Cas and it had been almost as painful as a year without Sam. And now he had them both back, but neither of them were really back. Both of them were different, not as close as before. And it felt like Dean was losing them all over again.

"You used to be human. Or at least like one." _You were human enough to love me._

Castiel only met his eyes briefly before looking away, still afraid to show Dean what he was feeling. Then he turned on his heel, walking away from Dean with his head down.

"I'm at war. Certain regrettable things are now required of me." Cas's voice sounded shameful, like he had to do things he knew Dean would hate him for. But that was the thing Cas didn't get: Dean couldn't hate him. No matter what Cas did, Dean didn't think he could hate him. But Dean knew it was a losing argument, Cas was like him and pretty much refused to talk about feelings when everything got emotional. Dean's eyes were on Cas, his eyebrows furrowed as he accepted defeat and went along with the change in topic.

"And Gabriel's horn of truth? It's a real thing?"

Castiel turned back around, all interested now.

"You've seen it?"

"We think it's in town, something's forcing people-" Dean's words stopped, as the sound of flapping wings came and Castiel was gone. The bastard hadn't even said goodbye. Just vanished, mid-sentence.

Dean looked around the room, hope unfortunately still sparking in his eyes. Everytime Cas left, Dean was always hoping that maybe he'd just relocated in the room, that he'd still be there if Dean just turned around. It was a depressing habit he'd gotten in to, but it was one that his mind couldn't seem to break. Because it never worked that way. Dean had never turned around and seen Cas actually still there.

"Oh, well, you're welcome." Dean kind of shouted the last words, hoping Cas could hear his annoyance wherever the angel had flapped off to. Dean downed the shot, pointedly not thinking about who had poured it. Then his chest seized again with warmth, and Dean turned around. Wow, Cas had actually come back. That was a first.

"It isn't the horn of truth." Dean looked around, still surprised that Cas was back.

"What are you talking about, you were gone for like two seconds, where did you look?" Castiel looked at him, discombobulated. 

"Everywhere." Dean sometimes still forgot that Cas was an angel.

"Right. Well, nice seein you anyway." Dean turned around, deciding it was Cas who got the pain of someone's turned back this time. He felt Cas's eyes on him, but he kept his back to Cas.

"Dean," Cas started. Dean knew exactly where this was going. He knew that tone.

"What." Dean's voice was harsh and mean, but he didn't take broken hearts very well, so Cas could go screw himself, thank you very much.

"About your brother, I. I don't know what's wrong with him and I do wanna help." Dean's walls were coming down already, in just a few words, but he let himself look up anyways.

"I'll make inquiries." Dean turned around, his mouth open to say some sort of thank you or something, or at least ask Cas how he planned on doing that, or maybe yell at him for not doing it sooner, and being gone all the time, but Dean didn't get a chance to say anything. It was just angel flapping and Cas was gone. Dean sat down, looking into his glass. Sometimes his glass was his only friend.

"Yeah, thanks."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lisa had never planned on telling Dean this, but it felt like the truth was being wrenched out of her lips. It was relieving though, it was nice to finally be able to say exactly what she'd been to scared to mention once Sam showed up. Or even before that, pretty much thinking it half the year Dean had been with her and Ben.

"You wanna know the truth?" Lisa didn't really care about Dean's answer, she planned on telling him despite.

"Probably not."

"You've got so much buried in there. You push it down, and you push it down. Do you honestly think you can go through life like that and not freak out? Just what, drink half a fifth a night and you're good?"

"Hey you knew what you signed up for." Lisa had been fine with the drinking and the nightmares, and the constant depression. Well not fine, but she could handle it. It had been worth the smiles, and the rare laughter, and the family that she'd finally gotten to complete. It had been worth Ben's joy, watching him grow into a finer man, a man like Dean. Or a man like Dean had been. Before he let his heart get the best of him again.

"Yeah, but I didn't expect Sam to come back." _I didn't expect to have to compete for your love._ But she knew Dean would hate her forever if she hated on Sam, so she corrected herself. "And I'm glad he's okay, I am."

"But the minute he walked through that door, I knew it was over." _You'd leave me for him, I knew it. You love him more than you love yourself, but not like a brother, Dean. You love him desperately, more than married couples love each other. It's sick, how codependent you are. You can't even breathe without his mouth being on yours._ "You two have the most unhealthy, tangled up, crazy thing that I've ever seen."

That was honestly the best and only way she could put it. How else do you explain the nightmares, the moaning Sam's name, the way the light in Dean's eyes had been dead since the moment Sam was? Dean literally lived and breathed Sam Winchester, and it wasn't conducive to his health. Sam tortured Dean, left him, threw him around, destroyed him. And Dean always crawled back for more. And Dean had never told her, but Lisa could tell they'd slept together too. It was in the way Dean touched her, it was different. And in the way he first held her hand, accidentally grabbing it as though she had been taller, and the male. She had this feeling that they'd been together, in a much more than brotherly way, which could definitely be one of the reasons Dean was so fucked up. It probably was the main reason.

"And as long as he's in your life, you're never gonna be happy." Sam was Dean's weight, the thing that dragged him down into his own personal hell. But somehow, even through all that, Dean acted like Sam was his heaven instead. Like Sam was the only thing that made him human. Like Sam was the only reason he wasn't dead, the only reason he hadn't offed himself a long time ago. Like Sam was the only reason he'd ever even gone to her, like Sam was the reason for everything. Lisa wondered just how much Sam actually was the reason for, but decided she didn't want to know.

The words had been a little harsh, and she apologized, but Dean didn't seem to mind. But then he went about making excuses, saying that while he and Sam had issues, her and Ben, blah blah blah. She didn't want to discourage him from the only hope he had left, she said it was fine he was close to Sam. And close was definitely one way to put it. Dean just didn't understand how she and Ben didn't fit into Dean's family picture. Dean had Sam, had always had Sam, and needed it to always be that way in the future too. Lisa couldn't get caught up between their crazy relationship. There wasn't room for three on Dean's bed, and even if there was, it wasn't what Lisa wanted. So she said goodbye to Dean, said goodbye forever. Or at least, so she thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Do you really think I would let something like that happen on purpose?" Dean's entire body was shouting the same thing. _Yes you would, yes you did._ Dean's mind was having a mental breakdown. Sam was lying, Dean could tell. He could feel it. He just _knew_. But he was also wrong somehow, because Sam couldn't lie to him. So Dean was wrong. He had to be. It was impossible for him not to be. Which also meant that Dean couldn't tell anything about Sam anymore, because Dean had known when Sam was lying his entire life. Until now.

"You're my brother, h-how could you-"

"Okay." Dean interrupted Sam. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't handle anymore lietruths. It felt like lies, every one, but somehow it wasn't. And it hurt. 

Sam just looked at Dean, his eyes expectant and apologetic. Dean had tears in his, from the wrecking conversations he kept having. 

"Okay." Dean repeated, saying for himself too. He pursed his lips to stop his tears, and watched as Sam's eyes darted down. Dean looked away, curling his lips into his mouth for a moment, trying to get Sam to look away. 

"Sorry. I thought I thought I saw somethin'." Dean couldn't say anymore, just looked at Sam. He felt like he was broken in a million ways, his entire world shattered and turned upside down. Lis left, he was reading his Sammy wrong, way wrong, and Sam was scaring him in the first place anyways. Sam's eyebrows were furrowed, and he pursed his lips in pity. Dean's eyes darted down automatically, which he instantly regretted, because now he was staring a Sam's lips. This was not where this needed to go. 

Dean looked away and so did Sam, before Dean brought his hand up to his forehead, trying to rub away the pain inside his head.

"It's just been a really really bad day." Dean had his eyes closed, but he felt Sam move forward a little bit.

"Hey," Dean turned his head to the side, running his hand over his face, trying to clear away everything bad. "It's okay."

Dean turned his head back to Sam, and Sam lifted his hand up, placing it on Dean's cheek. Dean didn't even bother to put surprise in his eyes, he was still just feeling pain and tired and wrong.

"I got your back." Dean just looked at him, having no reaction at all to Sam's hand cupping his jawline. "I always have."

Dean stopped his thoughts before they started, quickly cutting away all of the memories of Sam that just tried to resurface, all the accusations that Dean still felt deep inside him, all of those he just froze, just ignored.

"Thanks, Sam," Dean managed to say. Sam didn't reply, just leaned forward a tad and lifted Dean's face with his hand. 

Then his lips were on Dean's, colder than Dean remembered, different than Dean remembered. Dean didn't respond, didn't pull away and didn't move, didn't open his mouth or kiss Sam back. Sam only kissed him for a moment, in what was probably supposed to be gentle and soothing. Sam had given Dean a gentle and soothing kiss before, but this was definitely not in that category. It felt a little rough somehow, like Sam only kissed Dean how he thought Dean would want to be kissed. It felt like a favor, which was odd. But then Sam pulled back, his hand still on Dean's cheek.

Sam lifted the corner of his mouth in a twitch of an excuse for a smile. Dean put his head down, staring at the ground. Sam's hand left his face, then Sam turned and began walking down the stairs. Dean waited a moment before turning himself, following his brother out of the building. He didn't touch his lips with his fingertips, although his lips still tingled a little bit. But it was a different type of tingle, not warm and electrifying. It was cold and scary. Everything about Sam was cold and scary. If Dean hadn't had thought something was wrong before, that kiss would have convinced him. But hey, Dean was cursed. Sam couldn't lie. Which meant Sam didn't lie. Which scared Dean even more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What should we ask Dean first, hm? Something personal? About you?" Veritas looked over at Sam and Dean's heart sped up a few notches. Other than that he kept his face straight. 

"Hey Dean, I'm curious. What do you _really_ feel about your brother?" Dean lifted his head, his eyes more desperate than he'd ever felt before. She'd just inquired on the most personal thing in his life, the thing that had been part of him since he was a teenager. He could try to lie to her, but it was pointless. So he'd tell the truth. He just wouldn't tell all of it. It would take days to explain everything he felt about Sam. To describe all of his feelings for his brother. So he settled for recent, carefully avoiding the subject of love, which was easy enough, consider that not even Dean knew how he felt about Sam anymore. If _Dean_ didn't know the truth, then he couldn't spill it to the goddess.

Dean managed to blink a few times, get his head on straight before he answered. He didn't look at her eyes at first, didn't want her to watch his confession.

"Better now. As of yesterday I wanted to kill him in his sleep. I thought he was a monster. Now I think-" Dean froze for a moment. He didn't know exactly what he thought. At least, not consciously. So it would be his subconscious that came up with the next answer.

"Now you think what?"

"He's just acting like me." It was the only thing that made sense. It had just finally gotten to Sam, all of it. Hell, torture, hunting, everything. The gig had gotten to Sam, and that was that. Dean felt like he meant it too. It would explain the majority of the terrifying behavior. Dean just had to face that this day had finally come, and he was here to deal with it now.

When Veritas started in with Sam's question, the first thing Sam did was look over at Dean. Dean said he was sorry, he apologized with his eyes. And with the tears that were brimming at the corners. Sam acknowledged it, then turned back to Veritas, clearing his throat. Sam's answer was reasonable, and matched what he had told Dean earlier. Surprisingly, as Sam looked over at Dean during his explanation, Dean felt a little better. Maybe Sam meant it. I mean, he had to mean it. It was impossible for him not to. 

"No." Dean looked over at Veritas, his eyes still filled with sadness. He'd lost his innocent Sam, had lost him to a killer like himself. He was still trying to adjust to that idea when a new one got hurled into his face. "No, it's not!"

Dean looked over at Sam, looking for tells. Was that a lie? Had Sam just been lying? Dean watched in silence as they argued, his eyes wide with confusion.

"What are you? What is he?" Veritas turned to Dean accusingly. Dean just stared, having no idea what's going on.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really? I doubt that. I doubt anything that comes out of your mouth right now." Dean furrowed his eyebrows as he processed what was happening. So Sam could lie? How could Sam lie? So Sam had been lying _this whole time_? 

"You're not human." Dean stared at the goddess.

"What." Veritas turned to Dean, smiling wickedly.

"You didn't know that? Now that I believe." Dean didn't even have to time to register what this meant before Sam had cut himself out and slid the knife to Dean. Now Dean had other problems, like not dying by the hand of the goddess. So he set aside the new terrifying bit of information and just attempted to get himself the fuck out of this situation. While avoiding his weapon-bearing-non-human brother in the process.


	51. Exhilaration (Family Matters  06x07)

Sam knew exactly why he chose what he did. He may not have his soul, which was the thing that tethered him to Dean, after all, they were _soulmates_ , which kind of required having a soul to be, but he did still have his body and mind. Sam was a little surprised when he found out that he loved Dean with more than just his soul. His body fit with Dean's like a puzzle piece, and his mind felt this logical sense that being with Dean was always the right choice. It was programmed in to _all_ of him. Just the gooey, romantic, soft-eyed, I'll kill myself to save you crap was the part that was attached to his soul. The love part. The soulmates part. The part that held all the gravity between them, made them choose each other first over everything. So without his soul, Sam just felt a desire, a desire to be with Dean. So that was why he stayed.

"Hey," Dean said, almost flirtingly, as Sam closed the shotgun door behind him. Sam turned to Dean, a little surprised at the tone in his voice.

"You didn't think I'd come back." Sam didn't ask, he said it as a statement. He already knew the answer.

"I figured 60-40." Dean's voice was honest, and for the first time since Sam had seen him after the pit, almost content sounding. Like Dean was going to be okay now, because Sam had chosen him. Sam had proven to Dean that it wasn't over for them, so that was where the hope in his voice had come from.

Sam tilted his head in agreement, figuring Dean's guess was a very reasonable one. Dean just looked at him for a moment, and Sam considered attempting to kiss Dean again, but he decided it wasn't quite the time yet. Patience, that was key. The time would come soon. 

And Sam was right, it did. They were standing outside the interrogation warehouse and were lock-picking the door. Dean had just stuck his tool in the keyhole, but Sam grabbed his shoulder. Dean straightened up, no longer giving Sam a good view of his ass. But Sam dropped it in favor of Dean's eyes, which were dark in the night. 

"What?" Dean looked concerned, like he had missed something or was about to make a fatal mistake. Sam didn't reply, just kept his arm on Dean's bicep. His eyes searched Dean's for a moment, just watching his brother try to figure out what was happening.

"I'm glad I'm working with you, Dean." The worry disappeared from Dean's face and was replaced with slight annoyance mixed with appreciation.

"Well, just don't let me down Sa-" Dean's words were cut off as Sam closed the distance between them and covered Dean's lips with his again. Sam wasn't pushing for a lot, just baby steps. Besides, Dean's lips were good enough to kill for, and it wouldn't be fair to ask Sam to stay away. Dean made a surprised noise against Sam's lips, which required him parting them a little bit. Sam moved his mouth just a bit, waiting for Dean to respond. Finally, Dean kissed him back, for like .3 milliseconds. 

Then Dean pulled away, running his tongue over his lips. Dean pointed a finger and raised his eyebrows, his scolding face on.

"Just cause you don't have a soul, doesn't mean you get to go an-"

"Dean, just shut up and unlock the door." Dean's eyebrows went up in surprise and he stood there for a moment before tilting his head a bit and turning away from Sam. Dean bent back over to finish the lock and Sam watched from behind, his eyes on the back pockets of Dean's jeans. Then the door was open and they both slipped inside, Sam feeling triumphant and energized. Nothin opened your mind up to a hunt like a little exhilaration.


	52. Unimpeded (All Dogs Go To Heaven  06x08)

"Morning." Dean turned to see Sam standing by the table, organizing shit. The bed next to Dean was untouched, not a single sign of ever being touched. It was really weird to look at.

"You didn't sleep," Dean said, his voice still groggy from just waking up. "Cause you don't. Sleep."

Dean ran a hand over his face, still adjusting to his new mental routine of _good morning, your brother doesn't have a soul_.

"Right." Dean pinched the top of his nose, stopping what had potential to be an uncoming headache.

"Yeah. That's not creepy at all." If Sam didn't sleep, what the hell did he do last night? Watch Dean sleep? That made Dean really really uneasy. He was most vulnerable when he was sleeping, and the only person he ever fell into deep sleep around was Sam. Because he knew Sam would watch his back if anything were to happen. Except now, Sam was literally _watching_ Dean's back as he fell asleep. Well, maybe. Sam could actually be watching any part of him and Dean wouldn't know. Dean shook that thought away. Sam wasn't like that. At least, Dean was pretty sure Sam wasn't like that.

"Not like I can help it." Dean watched over his shoulder as Sam picked up his jacket. He always did have a weakness for Sam in suits, and although he was trying not to let his mind wander, Sam clearly read the look on his face. It wasn't like he was checking Sam out or anything, he still was too tired for that, and besides, this wasn't exactly Sam. Not really anyways. Dean was just, appreciating the physical physique.

"So you gonna just lay there staring at me, or do you wanna hear what I dug up?" Dean threw his hand up at the accusation. That wasn't fair.

"I wasn't staring at you." It was lame and an excuse and they both knew it.

"Oh really? Dean, just because I don't have a soul doesn't mean I don't have eyes." Sam stalked over to the other side Dean's bed, so at least Dean didn't have to roll over the rest of the way or strain his head to look over his shoulder at Sam. "I know that look. A blind man could feel the lust rolling off you."

Dean didn't like Sam standing over him, it gave him the upperhand. Dean pushed himself off the bed, standing up to face Sam and just a little wobbly.

"No way, mister. You've got me all wrong. See, the other Sam would kno-" Dean was more than a little surprised as his sentence was interrupted by two hands to his chest, grabbing his tshirt and pushing him up against the wall. It was still way too early for this shit, although Dean was pretty sure he'd by this annoyed any time of the day.

Dean looked up at Sam, his eyes wide with surprise. Sam's hands were still on Dean's chest, keeping him firmly pinned to the wall. Dean swallowed slowly, trying to keep his eyes unimpeded of the fear that was bubbling in his stomach. Sam's eyes had this really really intense emotion in them, one Dean wasn't sure there was a word in the english language for. There was probably a Latin word for the chilling look, but Dean wasn't so hot on his emotions-of-a-soulless-person Latin Vocabulary. 

They kept their eyes locked for a moment before Sam flicked his gaze to Dean's lips. Dean closed them, realizing they had been parted slightly. Sam didn't return his gaze to Dean's eyes. Sam leaned forward, slow enough to build a ton of tension in Dean's gut. When Dean fully registered exactly what was about to happen, his heart started beating faster. Dean looked up at Sam's face, now only six inches away from his. Dean wasn't sure if he would be able to form coherent words in time, wasn't sure what sound would come out of his mouth instead of what he was intending to say.

Dean shook his head no, trying to catch Sam's gaze in his eyes. Sam met his eyes briefly, and Dean shook his head no again. It was more of a pleading no, not really a demanding one. Dean would've like it to be demanding, but Sam was in a suit and Dean was in a tshirt and pinned up against a wall. He was hardly in a demanding position. 

Sam stopped his lips pursuit, his face still really close to Dean's. Sam just looked at him, his eyebrows raised like he was asking for an explanation of why Dean had stopped him. Dean looked down, away from Sam, trying not to breathe heavily because he knew Sam would be able to feel it, with his hands still pressed to Dean's chest. When Dean finally dared to turn his head back to his brother-kind of anyways- Sam was wearing an epic bitch face that said Dean still had to explain. Dean opened his mouth, half expecting Sam to just push his lips against Dean's open mouth and take advantage of him anyways.

"Sam, I. It's just, it feels wrong, okay? Like, we're brothers, we're not supposed to be like tha-"

"Dean, I remember what happened before the pit you know. I know you and Sam were together." Dean blinked, wondering what that memory would mean to someone without a soul or the right mind to process it correctly.

"That was different. That whole Michael, Lucifer, end of the world apocalypse shit was happening. And that was about - ( _love_ ) - anyways, we were ( _soulmates_ ) really close and about to die. Besides, that Sam isn't you." Dean regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth. That was kind of harsh. Actually that was really harsh. Dean braced himself for a swing at his face, or something. 

But Sam didn't hit him. He just looked at Dean for what felt like an hour, then all of a sudden Dean was stumbling forward, his weight no longer supported by Sam's huge hands. Sam stepped back, so Dean wouldn't run into him, but he didn't walk away until he was sure Dean was standing on two legs. Then Dean was left looking at Sam's huge shoulders as he crossed the room towards the door. 

"Hurry up and get dressed Dean, werewolves don't wait all day." 

As soon as the door closed behind Sam, Dean let out a breath he'd been holding and plopped down on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair. He was such a wreck. And he was thrown into the middle of this mess, with a Sam who wasn't Sam but still seemed pretty sure he wanted Dean in more ways than a brother. Maybe that was the only way he wanted Dean. Either way, it was confusing and annoying as hell, and what in the world did Dean do to deserve this? He'd spent the past year trying to do the right thing, and now he was stuck with a half-brother who wouldn't stop hitting on him. And the worst part was that while Dean's mind knew the difference, his body and his downstairs brain definitely did not. Which was becoming a major problem.


	53. Mortified (Clap Your Hands If You Believe  06x09)

Sam was more than a little surprised when the light flicked on. He pulled his face away from the chick on top of him, looking over at the door.

"Dean!" His brother was back! Sam was actually a little happy, UFO hunting alone was boring. Besides, he had been feeling sexually deprived without Dean to harass, so he'd had to go find some random hookup. Who was still on top of him. Oh yeah.

"What the hell." Dean looked fairly mortified/annoyed. Sam was just surprised to see Dean had made it back from his alien encounter. Dean still hadn't told him yet which kind it was. Sam was actually hoping it wasn't the butt kind, just because he didn't want to be somewhere a ton of green alien dudes had been. 

"Oh that's Dean!" The girl on top of him turned her head back to Sam, and Sam met her mental-hippie eyes happily. "Sam! They brought your brother back."

Sam turned his head over to Dean, smiling. Dean looked like he didn't know how to form words. The hippie chick rolled off of Sam, getting off the bed on the far side and starting to get dressed, rambling something about aliens that neither Dean nor Sam was listening to. Dean was still standing shell shocked by the door, and Sam sat up, his eyes grooming over Dean's body. Dean noticed his gaze and turned his head away from Sam, walking a few feet to lean on the wall and put his head down. Dean was walking like his normal, bow-legged self, so it hadn't been the fourth kind. Well that was good.

The hippie chick eventually had a decent amount of clothes on, and Sam got dressed, pretending he didn't know Dean was trying desperately not to watch him but absolutely still was. Sam was facing the wall, but he could feel Dean's gaze on his ass. It was understandable, Sam did have a smoking hot body after all. 

As soon as Dean shut the door behind the nameless girl, he put his hands against it and layed his forehead on the wood. Sam watched him for a moment, deciphering how Dean was feeling and sighing.

"You're upset." Funny how Dean was so insistent on being a close-legged prude, but the second he saw Sam with someone else, he blew a gasket and got jealous. That wasn't exactly fair.

Dean eventually turned around, pursing his lips in this really funny way that made Sam want to kiss him a lot. 

"I was abducted. And you were bangin Patchouli." Sam tilted his head. Patchouli was kind of an overkill, she was a bit of a hippie, but it wasn't like she was a hardcore pot reeker or anything.

"I don't think she smelled that bad."

"I was abducted by aliens!" Dean was pretty annoyed with Sam, although Sam knew a lot of that was about the fact that Sam had gone and stuck his dick in someone once Dean was gone.

"I was looking into it." And he was, Sam had searched. He'd made an effort. Isn't that what Dean had wanted?

"Looking into it? I was gone for like an hour." Actually, no he hadn't been gone for an hour. Sam explained this to Dean, watching a little bit of the anger seep away from him.

Dean moved to sit down on Sam's bed, but then decided better of it and sat down on the other one. Sam filled up a shot glass with some alcohol, figuring Dean would be much easier to talk to that way.

"Here, drink." Dean took the glass appreciatively and downed it in a gulp. "Good."

"Thank you," Dean muttered out, tipping the next glass backwards too. Sam sat down on his bed, leaning forward into Dean's space. He was fairly sure Dean hadn't been violated, but making sure was always a good thing. Besides, Dean needed to think he cared. And Dean was a major lead on this case, too. As Dean started to explain, the alcohol started to kick in, and Dean was looking more and more appealing by the moment. 

After some sarcastic and bitching remark about a bright white light, Sam grasped Dean's thigh, trying to reassure him. Dean got this extremely overwhelmed look on his face, just staring at Sam's hand and not realizing how to make words. Sam watched Dean for a moment before he decided that he would keep his hand there. It felt nice, all of Dean's muscles contracting and expanding underneath his hand.

"Safe room," he reassured Dean. Dean swallowed and nodded tightly, still looking at Sam's hand but continuing his story. Sam listened carefully, relieved to find out Dean hadn't been abused or hurt or raped or anything of the creepy sort, just a little bit scared. But Sam knew how to handle scared. And since Dean wasn't suffering from anything but emotional trauma, Sam figured he knew something that would distract from that a little bit. 

"You won," Sam echoed, smiling at the pride in Dean's voice as he spoke. Dean looked up at Sam again, and Sam reached out his other hand to take Dean's glass, setting it on the floor. Then Sam moved the hand that was on Dean's upper knee, sliding it further up his thigh. Dean's breath hitched and he looked down at Sam's hand, not sure how to react. Sam decided he'd react for Dean, so Dean didn't have to make any more hard decisions tonight.

Sam's hand was on Dean's front jean pocket, but he slid it up to Dean's hip, standing up slightly to put his other hand on Dean's other side. He kind of half lifted, half scooted Dean back onto the bed, pulling a surprised grunt out of the pretty older boy. Dean looked up at him, wide-eyed again as Sam crawled on top of him, digging his fingers into Dean's hipbones.

"I'm glad you're safe." Sam said, and he honestly meant it a little bit. It had been boring without Dean, besides, if Dean hadn't been safe, Sam would never have gotten to do this. Dean was still pretty freaked out from getting hauled off by aliens, so Sam wasn't going to be a dick and fuck him or anything, that wouldn't be fair, let alone enjoyable. Sam wanted Dean to want him back, especially before they did anything like that. But Dean's lips were still so very soft and pliant, and there was nothing Sam could do about that. Besides kiss Dean, that is.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe Dean was more shaken up than Sam realized, but Dean didn't refuse or turn away this time when Sam pressed his lips to Dean's. He heard Dean mutter something about secondhand pot poisoning into his mouth, but Sam just grinned and took advantage of Dean's now parted lips. Dean moaned as Sam swept his tongue inside, meeting Sam's with his own. Dean's lips were perfect and plump and Sam was pretty sure he never wanted to stop crushing their mouths together. 

Sam ran his hands up Dean's sides, underneath all three of his layers and brushing bare skin. Dean gasped, his mouth opening even wider and allowing Sam more access. Dean's hands were gripping Sam's shoulderblades, his fingers splayed and digging into Sam's upper back. Dean wasn't protesting Sam, but Sam was pretty sure if he kept this up for much longer, he was going to replace Patchouli girl with Dean and just fuck him senseless right here and now. His sexual desire hadn't been satisfied, and the way Dean's hips were pressed up into his was definitely not helping. And Sam couldn't ruin the future just by having a very active downstairs brain, so he pulled his mouth away, Dean's lips chasing his for a moment before Dean let his head fall back onto the bed. Dean's eyes were still closed, but his grip on Sam's shoulderblades loosened, and Sam slid his hands out from underneath Dean's shirts, propping himself up above Dean. 

"You should take a shower." Dean opened his eyes, looking up at Sam's face and sliding his arms off of Sam to land on the bed beside him. 

"I _should_ take a shower." The words were actually pretty cute, Dean's voice all girly sounding. Sam rolled off of Dean and Dean sat up, swinging his legs off the bed and standing too quickly. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna take a shower now."

Sam watched Dean, trying not to laugh as his bow-legs took him into the bathroom, his shoulder knocking into the door frame on the way. Sam smiled as he heard a muffled curse word before the door was closed carefully behind him. Maybe it was just the aliens, but Dean sure seemed to be a lot more compliant with Sam. This may end up going Sam's way after all.


	54. Diacritic (Caged Heat  06x10)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter may be a trigger, warning of Rape/Non-Con. Well, kind of. It's a lot more like reluctant but kind of consenting. I don't know how to describe it. It'll just be this chapter and maybe the next, but I figured I'd put a warning on it just in case.
> 
> And if you don't feel like reading the Soulless!Sam sex scene, I split this episode into two chapters. Mostly because the sex scene turned out stupid long, and I would leave it at that, but this episode had some pretty freaking fantastic Destiel moments and such, so the next chapter is also for "Caged Heat."

"You gonna kiss me?" Dean looked up at the demon sassily, getting only a cold eyed glare in return. But the demon and Meg both walked out, unfortunately not untying them of course. Dean turned his gaze forward again, his eyes meeting Sam's with a click. Sam had a diacritic look on his face.

"What?" Dean asked, too impatient to try to figure out what was going on in that freaky head of his. Sam stared at him for another moment, before lifting his hands up from behind him, the rope that had been binding his hands falling to the floor. Sam stood and clicked his shoulders in place, crossing the room slowly towards Dean.

"He wasn't gonna kiss you, Dean. But I am." Dean opened his eyes wider in surprise, watching Sam get closer. Unfortunately, Dean hadn't had as much free time as Sam to undo his bindings, what with Meg all over him and all. So he was stuck in his chair. Besides, Sam was kind of a freak when it came to, well, everything, so he could probably get out faster now anyways.

Sam had reached Dean now, even though he'd definitely taken his time doing it. Dean didn't speak, just followed Sam's body with his eyes. Sam bent down in front of Dean's chair, placing his hands on Dean's upper thighs. Dean flinched, barely, looking down for just a moment before meeting Sam's gaze again. Dean's expression was clearly disapproving, but Sam either didn't notice or didn't care. And based on the number of things Sam cared about lately, Dean figured it was the latter. Then he didn't have any more free brain use to analyze with, it was all put on halt as Sam leaned his head in, his lips wicked close to Dean's. Sam held his mouth creepily still, his lips literally millimeters away from Dean's. Sam's lips were so close, Dean wasn't sure how it was possible their mouths weren't touching. Then that thought went away too, as Sam pushed forward and crushed their lips together.

Dean made a surprised sound, but opened his mouth up anyways. He figured kissing this Sam was weird, and still felt wrong, but Sam had the upper hand here, and Dean didn't want to push away from Sam, just because he was afraid he would find he wouldn't be able to. If he was as trapped in this chair as he felt, he didn't want Sam to know that too. So Dean's plan was to work on his bindings as Sam kissed him, so he could be out of them by the time that Sam pulled his mouth away. But, like always, nothing went according to plan.

Sam's mouth was rough and hot on Dean's, pushing his back flat against his chair. Dean's mouth was tilted up, open and wet as Sam practically fucked his tongue inside. Dean let out a muffled moan, doing his best to make as little noise as possible. Sam responded to Dean's sound, biting down on Dean's bottom lip hard. Dean gasped, giving Sam even more access to the inside of his mouth. Dean could already feel his lips bruising and swelling. See, there was no way he could focus on the difficult task of untying himself when he was getting mouth-fucked by his crazy little brother.

Then all of a sudden, all the warmth and the heat was gone. Dean opened his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly with his heavy breathing. Sam wasn't in front of him anymore, but Dean could still feel him, standing behind Dean's chair. Then all of the sudden, Sam's mouth was on Dean's ear, his lips wet and brushing Dean's skin as he spoke in low words.

"You know, I didn't like that Meg demon all over you. Treating you like you were some kind of sex toy." Sam dragged his teeth over Dean's earlobe on the word "sex" and Dean did everything in his power not to throw his head back and cry out. "No one gets to straddle you like that, Dean. Because you. are. all. mine."

Dean's breathing hitched at the last word. This did not sound good. Dean was not Sam's, not this one anyways, and he was starting to get this vibe off of him that was freaking Dean out just a little.

"Sam, I-" Dean hadn't been planning on letting Sam know just how tightly he was tied to the chair, but he suddenly felt very very trapped and was left with no other option. Dean struggled, trying to pull his hands free of the ropes, wiggling his body in a rough attempt to break free. Of course, nothing budged.

"Ah, ah ah." Sam came back around to the front of Dean's chair, scolding him like a child. "I have you just where I want you Dean. You won't be getting out of your ties any time soon."

Dean stared up at Sam in horror, recognition of Sam's words dawning into place. Dean didn't know exactly what Sam had in mind, but it sure as hell couldn't be good. 

"Sam, please, just-"

"I do love to hear you beg Dean. But don't worry, I'll make you beg. Just for, well, other things besides being untied." Dean swallowed down the emotions bubbling in his chest as Sam spoke those words. "I'll get you begging with that pretty pink mouth of yours, Dean. Just you wait."

Then Sam's mouth was on his again, and Dean resisted at first, keeping his mouth closed and trying to turn his head. This only made Sam bring his hands up to Dean's face, turning Dean's head back forcefully and gripping him tightly in place. Dean let up a little bit in his stiffness, letting his lips be a bit more pliant. Sam took full advantage of it, sucking on Dean's bottom lip and crushing their mouths together repeatedly. Dean was almost dizzy just from this, from Sam pinning him in place and kissing him so feverently. 

Sam moved his hands off of Dean's jaw, and Dean turned his head to the side again, gasping in oxygen. Apparently Sam didn't use air as often as he did either. Sam didn't move Dean's head back again, instead just latched his mouth onto Dean's jaw, nipping at him and sucking on the skin there. Dean's eyes fluttered closed on their own will, but he managed to open them again as he felt Sam's hands running down his shoulders to his chest, then still further down to his stomach, and he didn't seem to be slowing down any time soon-

"Sam," Dean breathed out, just moments before Sam reached uncomfortable territory. Sam's hands hovered over Dean's crotch, close enough Dean could imagine feeling Sam's warmth on him. Dean held his breath, waiting as Sam stayed frozen for a moment. Then Sam was moving again, pushing himself up with one hand on Dean's thigh. Really really close to his crotch. Sam's fingers brushed along Dean's slight bulge as he pulled his hand away, and Dean shut his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the sensation. Then Sam was behind the chair again, his hands on Dean's rope. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Sam had finally come to his senses. Dean felt the part of the rope that attached his hands to the chair being swiftly untied, and he tilted his hands backwards, stretching his shoulders out a bit. His hands themselves were still tied together, but Sam's hands were on that part of the rope now.

Then Sam stood up, crossing over in front of Dean again. Dean tugged his hands away from each other, surprised to find that they were in fact, not untied. Actually, did they feel a little tighter? Dean tried to crane his head around, see if they were in fact knotted even worse than before. He couldn't see them, and he turned back to the front, looking up at the smirking Sam standing in front of him.

"Having trouble there, big brother?" Sam stepped back into Dean's personal space again, and Dean knocked his shoulder up, hitting Sam's chest. Sam met Dean's eyes, surprised. "Putting up a fight now, huh?"

"Sam, you have got to be kidding me right now. You cannot actually be-" Dean was silenced this time by a finger on his lips. Sam held his gaze for a moment, then looked down at Dean's lips, parted slightly and already swollen ridiculously. Then Sam was leaning forward, but to the side. He wrapped his long arms around Dean's torso, lifting him out of his chair slightly. Due to the fact that his arms were still behind the chair, he couldn't be lifted forward, but Sam had apparently already figured that out. Sam just lifted him up a little bit, then he used his foot to kick the chair sideways, knocking it over while still holding Dean up. Dean was surprised that actually worked, but now he had bigger problems at hand. 

Sam straightened up, letting Dean onto his feet. Dean felt a little better now that he was standing, although his hands were still tied. Then Sam was all over him again, Sam's hands on Dean's biceps as he pushed Dean against the nearest wall. Dean hit the wall with a thud, then Sam's mouth was on his, just as persistent as before, if not more. 

Sam multitasked as he kissed Dean, swiftly undoing all of Dean's buttons on his shirt and pushing it off of Dean's shoulders, bunching it up at his wrists before slamming him up against the wall again. The air was knocked out of Dean for just a moment, then Sam breathed into his mouth, like he knew it would be. As much as Dean didn't want to take anything from Sam right now, he needed oxygen to survive and get out of this situation, so he took the offering of air and breathed in from Sam's mouth. His mind flashed back briefly, to a memory that he hadn't let himself think about for a long time. The memory of thinking that he never wanted to breathe any air again besides the air from Sam's mouth. How breathing normal oxygen after that had felt dull and oddly too light.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by Sam's hands on his bare stomach, pressing Dean up against the wall before he moved his hands to Dean's hipbones, digging his fingers in deep enough to bruise. Dean let out a strangled sound, which actually didn't deter Sam at all. If anything, he just kissed Dean harder. Dean's heart was pounding out of his chest, loud enough he was sure that Sam could hear it. Then Sam pulled Dean's hips forward, pressing Dean up against him tighter. Dean choked on his breath as he felt Sam's erection rub up against his jeans. Dean wasn't very hard, a lot more concerned about getting out than he was about getting off. But Sam definitely was, if the huge bulge pressing into him was any sort of sign.

Sam seemed to get bored of just kissing Dean pretty quickly, so it wasn't long before Sam moved his hands off of Dean's hips, cupping down to Dean's ass and squeezing. Dean groaned, unable to keep his quiet resolve anymore. Sam lapped up the sound, the corners of his mouth twitching into a twisted smile. Dean was doing everything physically possible to not give into the thrum in his gut, but it was getting more difficult. Dean kept telling himself this wasn't Sam, and it wasn't, it wasn't his Sammy. But that didn't mean it wasn't Sam's hands on his ass right now, and there was pretty much almost nothing that could stop Dean from getting turned on by that. 

Then Sam moved his hands further down, to the top back of Dean's legs. Sam managed to use the curve of Dean's ass to push him upwards on the wall while he quickly pulled Dean's legs out from under him at the same time. One moment Dean was standing on two feet, and the next his legs were up around Sam's waist, with Sam's hands on his ass. Dean made a surprised sound, which sounded muffled as it flowed into Sam's mouth. Dean was surprised how well Sam had managed that, especially with Dean not helping him. His hands were still tied after all. 

Sam pushed them off the wall and Dean canted his body forward in order to avoid falling backwards onto the cement floor. He couldn't wrap his arms around Sam, so he just squeezed his legs tightly around Sam's waist, which ground his erection into Sam's stomach. But he was just holding on to avoid falling and getting a concussion. At least, that's what he told himself.

Sam moved one of his hands up to Dean's lower back to keep him more steady and less likely to fall. Dean detached his mouth from Sam's, feeling just a little pang of regret, and quickly pushed his head over Sam's shoulder, hooking his head on Sam's neck. Sam was carrying Dean now, out of the room and into an adjacent one, the bedroom. 

"Sam, what are you doing? Will you please just untie me?" Dean's words were a little too desperate sounding for his liking, but his voice was still gruff enough to have an edge to it.

Sam laughed lightly at that, reaching the edge of the bed and tossing Dean onto it. Dean landed with a thump, his hands temporarily crushed by his ass before he moved them up awkwardly to the space where his spine curved. Dean managed to sit up, after wiggling a bit, briefly sending out a thank you for having abdominal muscles. He stared down Sam with a glaring intention, definitely not appreciating being manhandled.

"Dean, you've had this coming since the moment you got back." Dean tilted his head for a moment, trying to catch on to exactly what Sam meant. "I've waited long enough." Then Sam was on the bed, pushing Dean down onto the mattress with hands to Dean's chest. Dean couldn't do much to stop him, the force of it drawing a quiet sound from his chest. Dean was thankful for the cushion of the mattress against his head, because he figured that Sam probably would have been just as likely do have done this all on the concrete floor of the other room. Dean was actually a little surprised that Sam had the decency to take him to a bedroom. It was almost like he cared. Almost.

Sam was still sitting up, straddling Dean as he flipped open the button on Dean's jeans and pulled down his zipper. If Dean's breathing hadn't sped up before, he was breathing quick enough to almost be considered panting now. He strained lightly against Sam's hands, but Sam's grip was firm. Sam scooped Dean's hips up with one arm while he tugged down Dean's jeans with the other. The instant exposure to cold on his thighs made Dean shiver. Sam pulled them all the way off, tugging off Dean's boots and socks as well. Now Dean was in boxers and a tshirt, with his hands tied in rope and the tangle of the button up shirt he had been wearing earlier. Dean still hadn't spoke since the last time he asked to be untied, but he wasn't sure what to say. His mind was still telling him to escape, but his body was canting up into Sam like Sam was the goddamned sun. Then Sam flipped him over expertly, and Dean was left lying on his stomach, listening to the sound of Sam's own jeans falling to the ground. After a few more moments, probably for Sam to strip all the way, Sam's hands were on Dean's bindings. Dean breathed a sigh of relief as Sam untied his hands. His button up shirt was still tangled up, but at least the rope was gone. Dean's wrists felt raw, but he figured he had more important worries at the moment. 

Then Sam rucked up Dean's tshirt, as far as it would go up with Dean's hands still pinned behind his back. In one swift motion, Sam freed Dean's hands, threw the shirt across the room, and pulled Dean's tshirt over his head, twisting it tight when it reached Dean's sore wrists. Now Dean's hands were pinned above his head, which was a hell of a lot more comfortable than behind him. And he was wearing nothing but boxers. But as Sam flipped Dean over onto his back again, Dean saw it was still more than Sam was wearing. The lighting in here was dark, but Dean could still see Sam's cock, hard against his belly.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pushing all of the flooding memories away. He had put up a wall between his conscious mind and the time he'd made love to Sam, back before the apocalypse had taken Sam's life. He normally only felt the warmth of Sam's bare skin, the smooth softness of his baby brother, the golden sweat and hair that fell damply to the sides as Dean rocked inside him, and those hazel eyes, gazing back up at him with love and desire and everything good in this world that was his Sammy, Dean normally only felt that in his dreams. And now, Sam's perfect body was standing before him again, but it felt wrong this time. Sam even looked different, his muscles more defined and ridged, his body tight from workouts and god knows what. The golden glow was gone, replaced with a solid dark gaze, nothing but lust in this Sam's eyes. 

Then Sam was crawling over the top of Dean again, pulling off the tshirt around Dean's wrists. Finally free, Dean squirmed underneath Sam, but Sam's weight and muscle mass kept him pinned to the bed. The only thing Dean could use his hands for was to grip Sam's biceps, maybe try to push him off that way. But Sam clearly wasn't budging. Sam slid Dean's boxers off of Dean's legs, tossing them to the floor like the rest of their clothes. At least Sam had remembered to close the damn door. 

"Sam," Dean managed, the word sounding shaky and weak. Sam didn't respond, just pushed the tip of his finger inside of Dean. Dean's body arched and he gasped, squeezing his eyes tight as Sam pushed his finger deeper inside. Sam must have had lube in a pocket in his jeans or something, or maybe it was spit, but either way, Dean was really grateful that Sam had cared enough to make this at least semi-comfortable. Sam joined his finger with another, sliding them in wetly. Dean shuddered and thrashed his head to the side, moaning. One of Dean's hands was still gripping Sam's arm, squeezing the muscle as Sam moved his fingers inside Dean. The other hand was gripping the sheets tight, his fist shaking and trembling. 

Finally Sam pulled his fingers out of Dean, which Dean was partially grateful for, but partially feeling very empty. It was only a few seconds before Dean felt Sam press up against Dean's entrance, the tip of his dick pushing inside. Dean bit his lip as Sam moved a little deeper. As soon as the head of Sam's cock breached the inside of Dean, Dean cried out, falling into a whimper as Sam pushed deeper inside. It burned, but it wasn't as painful as Dean imagined it would be. Sam was taking it oddly slow, just barely halfway inside him. Dean had half been expecting Sam to just slam into him, with his tendency to be an uncaring bastard. But maybe there was still some part of Sam that knew that this was Dean's first time taking it up the ass, and that part of him decided he wasn't going to scar Dean for life.

"S-s-sam," Dean's voice cracked as he stuttered. Sam pushed himself the rest of the way inside Dean, finally meeting his eyes. Dean's eyes were pleading and a little moist, and Sam froze for just a moment. Then he shifted his hips backwards, pulling out of Dean a bit before pushing back in. Dean let him, his grip on the mattress changing to Sam's other bicep. Sam kept eye contact for a few thrusts before he dipped his head down, lapping at Dean's mouth with his tongue. Dean opened his mouth up more, letting Sam kiss him sloppily and messy. They were heated sex kisses, different then the slow, deep, lingering ones that Dean was used to. These were quick and wet, full of sliding lips, teeth and tongue. 

Sam's hands roamed Dean's body as Dean's finally came to dig into Sam's shoulder blades. Sam sped up his pace a bit, thrusting inside Dean and filling him over and over again with the warmth of his thick cock. It still burned a little, just not as badly as before. Dean closed his eyes against the pain, but the darkness of his eyelids was surprisingly terrifying. With no dark ceiling or dirty moonlit streaks on the walls or a terminator of a brother with his long hair flopping in Dean's face to look at and distract him, it made the sensation of Sam deep inside him even more prominent. So Dean opened his eyes again, watching Sam's face as he fucked into Dean again and again. 

Sam's hazel eyes, now practically black with sexual lust, met Dean's with a spark. Their eyes were one of their main points of communication, and while that connection had definitely lessened without Sam's soul, they could still kind of read each other most of the time. Dean saw some sort of emotion in Sam that he wasn't expecting. In fact, he didn't think Sam could have emotions at all. Besides just the basic ones, and primal instinct. But Sam looked almost like he _cared_.

Dean's thoughts were swept away as Sam suddenly shifted his angle a little bit, thrusting into Dean and hitting the soft spot where his prostate was. Dean's body hitched as he let out a cry of his brother's name, his short fingernails digging half-moons into Sam's shoulderblades. Sam pushed in hard and deep and fast, slamming his body into Dean's over and over, hitting the sweet spot every time. Dean was torn between immense pleasure and the overwhelming pain of it all. He ended up panting out Sam's name a few more times, unable to say anything else.

Dean felt a pull deep in his gut, felt his body near the brink of letting go. Dean fought it for a moment, focusing on Sam's eyes, on running his tongue over Sam's mouth when Sam stooped down to him again. Then as Sam pulled away, another damp piece of hair unlodged from it's place carefully tucked behind his ear and brushed against Dean's temple, soft and silky and still so _Sam_. The feeling of it was practically the same as the night in that Elysium hotel, where Dean had ran his fingers through it, watching his baby boy fall to pieces underneath him. 

" _Saamm_." It felt more like Dean was shouting to the Sam of the past, felt like he was shouting directly into Lucifer's pit, calling to his brother as he came all over his chest and the one above him. Dean's body shuttered, going into a wave of pleasure, and he could feel Sam coming too, shooting inside him and trembling as he moaned loudly, his head falling forward, making his long hair tickle Dean's chest. They rode out their orgasms, Sam pushing into Dean a few more times before they both stilled, Sam half-collapsing onto Dean's chest, still somehow having the strength enough to prop up some of his weight on his forearms on either side of Dean's arms. Dean let his head roll back as he winced at Sam's cock being dragged out of his sore ass. Dean felt open and raw and exposed, and figured he wouldn't be able to walk right for at least a couple of days. 

Sam rolled off of him, letting himself sink into the pillow beside Dean. Dean could feel Sam's cum on the inside of his thighs, the bed dampening more as he lie there. Dean didn't think he was strong enough to move though, so he just grimaced and shut his eyes closed. The depression in the bed next to him moved, but Dean didn't open his eyes as he felt Sam stand up. It figured, Sam was gonna bolt now that he got what he wanted. Dean really shouldn't be surprised, how many times had he done just the same to a girl? But it hurt all the same, and Dean could feel tears forming underneath his closed eyelids. A drop or two slid down the side of his face, but Dean managed to not let any more fall. He shifted a bit, and the burn from before sparked again, sending red hot pain up Dean's spine. Dean whimpered softly and another tear escaped his eye, this one rolling out of physical pain. 

Dean heard the door creak open again, and prayed to whatever god was listening that it wasn't Cas or something. He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle Castiel seeing him like this. Dean creaked open an eye and was surprised to see Sam closing the door behind him and locking it. To keep something out, or to keep Dean in? It didn't really matter to Dean either way. Why was Sam back though?

"Come to gloat?" Dean croaked out, weakly turning his head away from the door and shutting his eyes again. 

"No." Sam said simply, his footsteps approaching Dean's side of the bed. Dean shied away from him, which sent the shot of pain in his ass again. Another tear managed to leak out, and Dean felt something wet and cold next to his eye. Dean shot his eyes open, turning his head over to look at Sam. Sam had a washcloth in hand, and was wiping away the tear tracks from Dean's face. Sam's face was carefully guarded, although Dean's quite clearly showed his surprise. Dean was about to make a smart alec remark, but decided he didn't want to snap whatever insane bubble of caring Sam was in right now. 

Once Dean's face had been lightly washed, Sam moved down Dean's body, wiping the white goo off of his chest. Dean watched Sam, kind of amazed that this was happening. Then Sam set the cloth down on the floor and picked up the other one he brought, this one a little bit more damp, but clean. Sam lifted Dean's shoulder and rolled him over onto his stomach, making Dean breath in sharply against the burn. Sam crawled up on the bed next to Dean, who was now to far away from the side to treat while standing. Then he set to work on the inside of Dean's legs, wiping the mess off of him. It was still a little tender in parts, but Sam was gentle enough so that Dean could just bite the inside of his cheek against the pain. 

When Sam finally finished cleaning Dean off, he rolled him over again, in the same direction as before, flipping him over three times until Dean was laying on his back on the opposite side of the bed. Away from the damp spot on the sheets. Which was also weirdly thoughtful. Then Sam climbed onto the bed next to Dean, scooting close enough to him to avoid the wet sheets. Sam didn't wrap his arms around Dean, didn't press his back up to Dean's for warmth. Sam just layed next to him and drifted off to sleep, finally letting the post-orgasmic tiredness take over. Dean lay still for a few minutes before he turned on his side, back to Sam, and fell asleep.

And for the first time in a long time, Dean didn't dream.


	55. Part Two (Caged Heat  06x10)

When Dean woke up, Sam was gone again. Dean didn't have a horrible feeling in his gut though, he figured Sam would be back. So he rolled out of bed carefully, wincing once or twice and cursing at a god or two. But he managed to round up his clothes and put them on without too much difficulty, stumbling for the bathroom next. Dean stood in front of the mirror, bending down to splash cold water on his face. He stared at his reflection for a moment or two, taking in his disheveled hair and his swollen lips. There was a light bruise on the corner of his bottom lip, but it would be gone soon. Dean leaned back and lifted up his shirts, checking for bruises on his hipbones. There were thumb shaped bruises on each hip that were a little tender to the touch, but other than that Dean felt fine. Well, his ass ached like a motherfucker, but he'd live through that. 

The door to the cabin creaked open, and Dean wandered out of the bathroom, scooping up papers on his way and walking into the living room. Sam was standing there, accompanied by Castiel. Wow. That was just fabulous. 

"You actually showed," Dean said, looking over at Cas. Castiel was looking at him with narrowed eyes, like he was trying to see right through Dean. Dean had just had his ass reamed by his little brother, so of course his natural defense was sarcasm and joking. Dean was a big boy, he could handle himself. And he could handle being his brother's bitch. For now. 

"What happened?" Sam looked from Cas to Dean, and Dean immediately knew that Sam had done something he shouldn't have. Maybe threaten Cas? No, that would work, because Sam was no threat to Cas. Maybe Sam threatened _him_. That would get to the angel for sure. Maybe Sam told Cas what had happened, and had threatened a much less kind repeat performance if Cas didn't help. Or maybe Dean just over thought everything.

"No big! This is what friends do for each other." Sam lifted his arms and gave his best full-of-shit smile. Dean couldn't help but let his eyes drift over Sam's body, which was a lot more engaging to look at now that Dean had a choice in the matter. This was still just Sam after all. Just, vamped up Sam who didn't have morals enough to care about other people's opinions. But for some reason, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that Sam made an exception for him. After all, Sam had saved his life a few times even when he didn't have a soul. And he stuck around, even though he had virtually no reason to. So Dean figured, if he had flat out told Sam "no" earlier, Sam probably would have stopped. Probably. 

"Huh," Dean said, nodding as he kept his amused face on. Better to be happy then to be hurt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean had Sam's foot wrapped around his ankle as he read over the maps and papers. It hurt like a bitch to sit down, but he'd been sitting for a while so he was used to it by now. They only had one lamp, so Dean and Sam were sitting abutted. Dean didn't mind the physical closeness, once Sam had gotten fucking Dean out of his system he was much more tolerable to be around. 

"It's very complex." Dean heard Cas's voice, but didn't really think about it, just muttering _Mmmhmm_ , in response. There had to be some sort of pattern on these maps to lead them to Crowley.

"If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter," Dean lifted his head from the map, in time with Sam's, and brought his hand away from his forehead. Was Castiel saying what Dean thought he was? Dean looked over at Sam, who gave him a _"hey, he's your angel, not mine"_ look. 

"Why does he keep slapping her rear?" Dean turned his head to look over at Castiel, who was staring intently at the screen of the tv. Cas lowered his head, looking at the screen instead of turning to Dean. "Perhaps she's done something wrong."

Dean put his hand down, looking at the pencil he was holding for a moment as he processed. 

"You watching porn?" Castiel met his gaze for a moment, not recognizing the look on Dean's face and turning back to the screen. "Why?"

"It was there." Dean looked over to Sam, but Sam just mini-shrugged and turned back to his laptop. Apparently, this was Dean's problem.

"You don't watch _porn_ in a room full of dudes." Cas looked up at him curiously. How is it that Castiel looked beautiful even by the light of a flickering porno playing on his face? "And you don't _talk_ about it. Just turn it off."

Castiel looked back at the screen for a moment and Dean watched him watch the show. Then Cas looked down, his eyes on his crotch. Dean followed Cas's gaze and saw a bulge in his black pants. Without thinking, Dean instantly complained.

"Well now he's got a boner." Dean threw up his hand, exasperated, looking over at Sam. Before he realized that he would have had to be looking to notice that. Which meant that now everyone in the room knew that Dean had been looking. Well shit.

Sam opened his mouth to call Dean on it, comment something or another about checking out his angel boyfriend or something like that, when a knock at the door saved Dean's life. Dean bolted out of his chair, happy for an excuse not to talk about the fact that he had been looking at Cas's boner, and happy for an excuse not to be sitting down anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'll hold off the dogs." For a demon, Meg was about as dumb as a demon. Dean had messed with hellhounds, on more than one occasion, and he knew it wasn't as simple as "holding them off." Those bitches were nasty, and Meg was suicidal. Which wasn't really a big problem for Dean, except he actually needed the dogs to be held off.

"Well how are you gonna do that ex-" Dean's words froze in his mouth as Meg leaned up and wrapped her demon hand around Cas's neck, pulling his lips down to her own. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but lost for words, closed it again like a gaping fish and turned his head towards Sam for a moment, without his eyes ever actually leaving Cas. Cas, who's beautiful lips were all over a demon. Dean stared, frozen, as Meg pulled away. There was a split second of palpable tension between the two, and then Castiel lifted Meg up, spinning her around and slamming her up against the wall.

Cas put his hands in Meg's hair, kissing her passionately and a bit roughly too. Dean pointed with his finger, still not exactly comprehending what was happening. He was forming words, conversations, in his mouth, but nothing was coming out. He probably looked retarded, just his mouth opening and closing in wordless shock. Castiel deepened the kiss, pushing one hand up on top of Meg's head, tangling his fingers in her hair and pressing his body up against hers on the wall.

Dean's mind was swirling with all the things his mouth was trying to say but for some reason still couldn't form words. _You could have pushed me up against the wall instead. I promise I’m submissive. Just ask Sam, he'll tell you. But you'd be good to me, wouldn't you?_

Dean was about to say them, but his vocal chords were broken. And so he missed out. And he may never forgive himself for that.

"What was that?" Meg asked weakly, looking at Castiel as he backed away. Everyone was looking at Castiel. Cas only had eyes for Dean though, his beautiful blues met Dean's and there wasn't a flicker of shame in his eyes. Dean raised his eyebrows expectingly, wanting some kind of answer from Castiel. Preferably a _Oh, I was just practicing on you to make Dean jealous, but I'm actually going home with him tonight to show him everything else I can do too._

But Cas didn't say that. He turned back to Meg, saying in all seriousness, "I learned that from the pizza man."

Dean looked at Cas for a moment, processing, before he looked down. If Cas learned that from the pizza man, he must have learned a hell of a lot of other things too, because he'd been talking about spanking, and oh lord where was Dean's mind going. Dean was just standing there, processing, trying to get a grip on everything that just happened and everything that just didn't happen (like Cas kissing Dean next, anytime now please) and everything that could happen (good god Dean was going to accidentally show Cas some of the greatest porn ever if they got out of here alive).

"Well, A+ for you. I feel so, clean." Well that didn't make Dean want Cas anymore. It wasn't like Dean felt ashamed of himself, or dirty, or wrong, or bad, at all. Yeah, he totally couldn't use a bit of Cas's magic cleaning makeout sessions right now. Or whenever. But preferably right now to start.

Then Dean was drawn back to reality by the terrifying snarls of a hell hound. And now Meg was leaving, what a shame, and Dean was running behind Cas. Leaving Cas's little kissing doll behind, that would only mean that Dean would have to find Cas a replacement. Well Dean certainly knew someone who was very interested in the role.


	56. Relentlessly (Appointment in Samarra  06x11)

"It's my life. It's my soul. And it sure as hell isn't your head that's going to explode when this whole thing goes sideways! Why the hell do you want my soul back so bad anyways?"

"Because you're not my brother. You're not Sam."

"Really? Because I sure remember it to be my name that you shouted when you came on my dick, Dean."

Dean froze, staring at Sam with his eyes wide. Bobby had been in the process of standing up, and he froze too, halfway in the air. Dean just looked at Sam for a moment, his eyes cold as ice. Sam wasn't sure if he should anticipate a swing, or just a verbal beatdown, but Dean did neither. Which was a shame, Sam would've been happy to take Dean in a good old fashioned wrestling match, get him pinned under Sam where he belongs. Just to prove his point farther.

But Dean just turned on his heel and walked out of the room. The screen door in the kitchen slammed shut behind him, making Bobby flinch. Sam had forgotten Bobby was witness, and wondered if he knew that he and Dean had fucked before. He tilted his head curiously at Bobby, but Bobby didn't look up to meet his eyes. He just walked out of the room as well, opening the fridge and grabbing himself a beer. Sam stood, feeling as emotionless as ever. He didn't know why Dean was throwing such a hissy fit or why Bobby looked like he was about to puke out all of his stomach's contents. Sam didn't care that he'd outed them to Bobby, the man could handle it. And Dean would handle it too. It'd be even easier to handle if he wasn't being such a bitch about everything.

Sam considered following after Dean, but figured he'd probably already dug up the ring by now, and was halfway across the globe. So Sam's idea to follow him and steal the ring before Dean could do anything was spoiled. That was fine, Sam would find another way. There was always another way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Dean doesn't care about me, he just cares about his little brother Sammy, burning in hell. He'll kill me to get that other guy back."

"What do you care if Dean cares about you? It's not like you give a rat's ass about anyone around here." There were a few moments of silence where Bobby thought that maybe Sam had disappeared. But finally he heard him speak again, his voice a little less loud this time.

"That's not true. I mean, I don't care about most things, but, Dean. Why do you think I stick around Bobby? I mean, all I do is threaten to get killed, get bitched at for not having morals 24/7, and Dean slows me down. He stops me from interrogating people too "roughly," he wastes hours every day because he has to sleep, I have someone's ass I have to watch out for every moment of every day. It's not like I need his hunting skills, he was slow and out of practice and compromised by an attachment to Lisa and Ben. Why do you actually think I'm still here?"

There was an even longer silence on Bobby's end this time, and Bobby heard Sam let out a soft chuckle as he realized Bobby's answer.

"It's not just to fuck him, you know. I don't have a problem getting what I want in that department. It's more than that. I know that my soul used to love Dean, I get that, I remember. But I think it's more than just my soul that's attached to him. I think my body just can't let him go. Or my head for that matter. I don't care about Dean like I used to, and I don't even really consciously care about him, but that doesn't stop me from getting worried when he's hurt or from risking my life to save his, or from wanting to be around him all the time. I think my mind and body are attached to him too. But he doesn't care, Bobby. Dean is the only thing that I care about, and he looks at me like I'm some sort of devil that stole his precious Sammy away from him. He blames me for losing his brother, but that's not my fault, and frankly, not really my problem. I just, I wish he'd care about me, treat me like how he treated that other guy. He hates me so much, he's willing to kill me. I'm not going to let that happen. I'll block the soul, and he'll come around eventually. I know I could get him to come around. I just need to block my soul from getting in my body. Soon. So that's why I've gotta do this."

"Look, I know it hurts not to feel loved back. And I know it's scary to think you could die from this. But you know what's scarier? You right now." Bobby kept on talking, trying to convince Sam out of his murderous intent. He didn't notice the silence for a while, and he figured it was probably too late by the time he did. Bastard was fine with talking Bobby's ear off about his issues, but the second Bobby tried offering some advice, the kid bolted. Figures.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Sam woke up, all he saw was green. Green, green eyes, staring at him from the little barred window in the door. Sam looked back, wondering how long Dean had been watching him.

Neither of them broke eye contact for a long time, each trying to read each other's emotions. Sam stared relentlessly at Dean, his eyes locked in a cold, angry gaze. Dean stared back with his eyes swimming with emotions. Pain, mistrust, anger, and mostly, extremely dismayed.

But that was the look of a killer's eyes that were meeting Sam, a killer who had turned his crosshairs right on Sam's chest. Sam had seen demons in hell, in the few weeks of hell time that he was down there. It wasn't as long as Dean, but it was long enough for Sam to get to see a demon's true form. And in the shadows of Dean's eyes right now, that's exactly what Sam saw.

Sam had never seen Dean's deadly gaze turned on him, and although it was mixed with sadness, it was still flickering and visible behind Dean's green eyes. Sam could see the frozen black glint of demon's eyes, although they were unlike any Sam had ever seen. They had wet flashes of fire dancing in them, only making them partially black. Sam thought all demon eyes were just a solid color, but Dean's. Dean's were different. Fire eyes, but not really flames. More like a flickering red light of fire, surrounded by the beetle black of other demons.

Sam wondered for a moment just what one had to do to get eyes like that. He'd thought white eyes were scary, but they looked like inviting fluffy clouds compared to what Sam saw in his brother. There was that small part of his mind, the tiny part that had recognized himself as the boy king when he was Lucifer's vessel, and that tiny sliver of mind shivered with a darkened glee. The boy king in Sam had left when he was pulled out of hell, but that didn't mean it wasn't still in his memories. And his memories were filled with images, of himself crowned king, with Dean, his precious demon pet. The control that Sam would have over those dark flashing eyes, the things he could make his torturing, dark, little pet do-

And then Sam was flashed out of his memories, a bitter taste left in his mouth. And then the window door was shut, Dean's green eyes vanishing, along with his demon ones. Sam rolled his head back to face the spinning fan on the ceiling, counting each rotation. He'd only gotten to 315 before Death appeared at his bedside. Sam's first reaction was to try to break free, and to shout for help. He had to convince Dean, Dean couldn't do this to him.

Sam spent a few pointless moments shouting at Death, who seemed undeterred by Sam's efforts. Then Sam turned to Dean, pleading.

"Please, don't do this. Dean, no. You don't know. You don't know what'll happen to me. That thing. Please! Dean! No, no. No. _Deaann!_ " Sam saw Dean's eyes flash with worry, with sorrow, but not with the caring spark that Sam had prayed for.

It was the last thing Sam saw before he screamed, white hot light invading every ounce of his body. It burned, burned with all of the fires of hell all at once, then everything was black.

 

 


	57. Exhorted (Like A Virgin  06x12)

"Dean." Dean spun around in his chair, the low, soft voice barely audible but still somehow the clearest thing he'd heard in over a year. His brain took a second or two to register the man walking slowly towards him. Dean took his hand off the glass, slowly rising from his chair.

"Sam." It was a breath, just an automatic response of his brain, the very carbon dioxide shaping itself as the word fell out of his mouth, not even conscious he was making it. Dean's brain wasn't on the same level as his body, and it took way to long before one of his feet moved to take a step forward, feeling like he was gliding and sinking in quicksand at the same time. For a moment he was afraid he'd fall before he ever reached Sammy, but his fear was greeted by a determined face from Sam. His brother crossed the distance between them in a few seconds, slamming his body into Dean's and wrapping his arms around Dean's back. Dean stood, in shock for just another moment longer, before he set his hand on Sam's shoulderblades, unable to keep the surprise, the disbelief off of his face. Sam's body was pressed warmly against his, tight together due to Sam's killer grip across Dean's back. Dean felt enveloped in a warmth that threatened to burn him and make him an addict of it. 

Dean felt Sam breathe out into his neck, the tension in Sam's back relaxing as he gripped Dean a little closer at the same time. Sam had one arm wrapped around Dean's shoulders and the other one halfway down Dean's back, fitting against the curve of Dean's spine to hold him in a cradle that felt like it would be impossible to break. Dean's grip was much more gentle, but he had his hands engulfing Sam's entire body too. Dean's eyes were closed, and he felt Sam breathe on him again, this time a little less forced and more of a sigh. Then Sam clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder and Dean opened his eyes, pulling his chest a few inches away from Sam's.

Sam kept his hands on Dean, one moving to his shoulder and the other wrapping around the side of his waist, just above his hip. Dean scrutinized Sam, his eyes running over Sam's face to make sure he seemed alright. Sam looked like he was made of pure joy, and his gaze made Dean's entire body fill with a bubbly, barely-there feeling. Then Sam turned his head, breaking eye contact. Sam stepped to the side, Dean's grip on Sam's shoulder falling as he stepped out of reach. Sam clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder again, a promise that he was returning, and reached forward to hug Bobby.

Dean shared a worried look with Bobby as he briefly explained to Sam that he wasn't dead, before he stepped forward again, gravity pulling him closer to his brother.

"Sam, are you okay?" Sam looked at Dean with a panted grin, before turning back to Bobby a moment and losing his cheerful expression. Sam turned his body to face Dean, speaking again.

"Actually, uh. I'm starving." Dean leaned back in relief, reaching out a hand to grab Sam's upper arm and slowly guide him into the kitchen. Sam went along easily, his grin returning to his face.

"Sit," Dean commanded, pulling out a chair for Sam at the table. Sam plopped down happily, leaning on his arm that was propped against the table. Sam watched Dean as he hurried across the kitchen, gathering ingredients for a sandwich. Dean should've thought of this ahead of time, but at least he was a fairly fast cook. 

In no time, Dean finished Sam's meal and brought it over to him, sliding it across the table to Sam's place. Sam was already sipping a beer Bobby had gotten him, but he sat in down in favor of Dean's sandwich. He picked it up, nodding gratefully at Dean as he ate. 

Sam told Bobby and Dean how much he remembered, aka nothing, and Bobby made a suspicious face in Dean's direction. Dean snapped at him in an attempt to get him to quiet himself, and Bobby got the hint, but Dean was pretty sure Sam did too. But Sam didn't push it, much anyways, so they managed to avoid that colossal mess.\

"Is there anything else I should know?" Sam looked over at Dean and Dean's mind instantly flashed back, to his hands on Sam's bare back, his lips swelling as Sam nipped at him aggressively, the cold streak of tears down his cheeks.

"No," Dean said, huffing out a breath and shaking his head, his lips pursed up in a casual blow-off. "Nother beer?" 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Dean,"

"Yeah," Dean said, twisting the time on another golden watch. The tone in Sam's voice should have tipped him off, but it had been over a year since he'd heard his brother's emotions in his voice, so he wasn't paying close enough attention to be exhorted of what was coming. Dean didn't even look up until after Sam's next words.

"I am so. So sorry." Dean looked over at Sam, his eyebrows raised. "I can't even begin to say..."

Sam just shook his head, his eyes downcast and guilty. Dean froze, his heart beating quicker. Sam could be apologizing for almost anything right now and he had no idea what it was he was actually sorry for.

"What?" Maybe it was for something else.

"You know what." Sam finally met Dean's eyes and Dean's heart stopped for a moment. How much did Sam know?

Dean made a conscious effort to close his mouth, then turned his head down, looking through the watch and into space.

"Bobby?" Dean asked. It better not have been.

"Cas."

"Cas. That child." Dean didn't meet Sam's eyes, just stared ahead. Cas knew enough things to put Sam's life in danger, although Dean figured that Castiel probably didn't know about the whole sex thing. He hadn't been there when Sam -the other Sam- had shouted it to the world.

"You should've told me, Dean."

"You weren't supposed to know."

"What I did? To Bobby? To _you_? Of course I should know. Cas told me, he said that we had - that you had been walking funny, and were pretty upset at something." 

"Sam, Death didn't just shove your soul back in, okay? He put up a great wall of Sam between you and the things that you don't remember, and trust me when I say the things you don't remember could kill you." _And ruin our relationship too, while you're at it_. "That's not a joke."

"Right." Sam nodded, agreeing with Dean, but there was a catch, it was in his eyes. "But I have to set things right. What I can, anyway."

"It wasn't you!" That was what Dean had to keep telling himself, what he had been telling himself since the moment he found out Sam didn't have a soul. It was the reason why he'd been able to get himself through the shock of everything that had happened, everything between them that had felt so wrong. And Cas may have an idea of what went wrong, but Dean wasn't going to talk about it, he'd deny it and say he hurt himself on a hunt, he'd figure something out. But Sam didn't need to know everything that happened over the past couple of weeks, and he definitely didn't need to know what happened in that cabin a few nights ago. That secret was safest buried deep underground, where Dean planned on keeping it. Forever.


	58. Convulsing (Unforgiven  06x13)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the past like 5 chapters and this one have all been kind of based off of the idea of this youtube video that was amazing, and the video is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jt14Bt0YJz8
> 
> I highly recommend watching it.

It was on their way out of the restaurant that it first happened. Sam had already seen bits of pieces of the past year, once when they passed the town' sign, and again when the girl had touched his shoulder. But Sam wasn't expecting seeing anything when it came to Dean.

Dean was walking beside him, and he brought his hands up to Sam's shoulderblades, placing it along his spine. _**Flash** Dean was laying on a bed underneath him, his head thrown back as he dug his fingernails into Sam's shoulderblades. **Flash** and the scene changed again, to Sam's mouth roughly crashing against Dean's, pinning him up against the mattress. **Flash**_ and

Sam was snapped back into reality, his step faltering slightly as everything came back into focus. Dean looked over at him, sliding his hand down Sam's spine to his lower back.

"You alright?" Dean's eyes were just as searching as before, staring at Sam like he was about to have a convulsive fit.

"Yeah, fine." Sam dropped his eyes away from Dean, not wanting to give away anything. What in the world had he done to Dean?

The next time it happened is when they got back to where they were squatting. Dean practically threw himself on the couch, jumping onto it over the mess of his bags on the floor. Sam was going to comment and laugh, but then it happened again. _**Flash** Sam threw Dean onto a bed, watching as he scrambled the best he could away from Sam. **Flash** and Sam climbed over him, pushing him flat to the mattress. "S-sam?"_

"Sam?" This time the "Sam" sounded a lot less shaky and breathy and a lot more present, and worried. Sam turned his head towards Dean, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. 

"Hmm?" 

"Hey, c'mon, hop to, would you?" Sam plopped down on his bed and opened up his laptop.

"We can't go, Dean." Sam had to get some answers first. He had to find out what had happened here, and what had happened with Dean. Sam _had_ to know.

~*~*~*~

Dean spun around instantly at the sound of the gun cocking, his hands thrown up in the air. That was oddly submissive of Dean. Sam was expecting to be tackled if the intruder had turned out to be his brother. Apparently not. Not that Sam could deny the submissive gesture was making his skin flush warm.

"Hey Sam." Dean said, a sideways grin covering his features. Sam lowered his gun, his resolve melting. Sam let out a relieved breath, the adrenaline leaving his body in a burst. "So how's it feel to be a fugitive again?"

His eyes swept down Dean's body, telling himself he was just visually checking to make sure his brother was alright. There had been plenty of times Dean had come back with blood dripping from him somewhere and failed to mention it due to feeling like it made him less manly somehow or something. 

Dean caught Sam's gaze, raising an eyebrow in question after Sam checked him out. Sam didn't respond to Dean's raised eyebrow, just tucked the gun back behind his jeans. Dean took a step towards Sam, his half-grin still pulling one side of his mouth up. Sam's eyes got trapped on Dean's mouth after that observation, watching his lips as Dean spoke.

"I hate to say I told you so." Dean licked his lips after the words, taking another step closer, close enough now that Sam could reach out and touch Dean.

"You'd love to say I told you so." Sam said the words not much louder than a whisper, bringing his mouth closer to Dean's as he spoke. Sam paused a few inches away, waiting for Dean to grab the back of his neck and kiss him. Or something. 

But Dean just stood, expectantly. He looked up at Sam and his green eyes flashed, suddenly questioning. There were a few moments of charged silence before Dean finally spoke.

"You gonna kiss me or what?" Sam was definitely not expecting that. Lately, with Sam going to jump in the pit and all, Dean had been the one initiating all of the moves in their relationship. Sam had just assumed that Dean would take control like he had been. Although, now that Sam thought about it, it seemed like in the past year and a half of being soulless, Sam had been the one in charge. Which was odd. But that would explain Dean's sudden submissiveness. 

Instead of questioning Dean about it, because Sam really didn't want to ruin the moment, it had already taken a turn for awkward, Sam just leaned forward, cupping Dean's face in his hands.

Sam pressed his lips to Dean's, slowly moving his mouth against his brother's. Dean lips were soft and compliant, sliding apart for Sam almost instantly. Sam didn't take the bait, he just let his lips do all the work, softly sliding his mouth along Dean's. Dean's mouth was warm and perfect and as plump against Sam's as he remembered. 

When Sam pulled his mouth back, hands still cupping the sides of Dean's jaw, Dean's eyes looked up at him with what was a mixture between surprise and fear. _**Flash** Sam slammed Dean up against a wall, Dean shaking his head in a wordless no. **Flash** Dean tensing away from Sam's hand that suddenly clasped his thigh, Dean's eyes staring at him with that same look, just a lot more fear and a lot less surprise._

Sam blinked rapidly, the flashing memories going back to rest as the green eyes in front of him shifted back into focus. Dean was watching him intently, that expression of surprise and partial fear just barely there now. Before Dean could beat him to it, Sam opened his mouth and spoke.

"You alright?" He was not just drawing the attention away from himself with the question, he also was genuinely concerned about Dean's expression right now. The fear thing was definitely not normal. But based on the flashes of what Sam was seeing and trying desperately not to think about, it would make sense.

"Yeah, I guess I'm just not used to gentle kisses." Dean's eyes flitted down as he muttered the words, barely loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam was about to press him further, _what the hell did that mean_ but Dean stepped back, Sam's hands sliding off of Dean's skin and falling by his sides. Now would be the perfect opportunity to ask Dean about his memories. Although he wasn't really looking forward to Dean's scolding about scratching at the wall.

But then the police scanner buzzed, words about a missing person scattering out. Sam would have his opportunity soon enough.

~*~*~*~*~

"It's an Arachnee." 

"What?"

"I remembered." Sam kind of flinched as he said it, Dean's pacing freezing in step. Dean turned to Sam, suddenly seeming really tall, due to the fact that Sam was sitting and Dean looked pissed.

"You remembered? I'm sorry, uh, what else have you remembered?" Dean's words sounded deadly. Just coming out and saying everything he remembered did not sound like a very good idea right now.

"Don't worry, alright? It's nothing to do with hell. But uh, there is something. To do with you." Dean's eyes frosted over at that, his entire expression turning cold.

"Sam-" Dean started warningly. 

"Look, I'm starting to think, think that I might've done some bad stuff here Dean." Dean just stared at him, his eyes still cooly steel. "I remember you, and me, and there was a bed, and I threw you on it, and-"

"Sam. Don't."

"Dean, I need to know what happened. You owe me that much." Dean finally unfroze, and he walked over to the chair propped perpendicular to the couch Sam was on.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Dean, what are you afraid's going to happen?" Sam leaned forward, placing his hand on Dean's knee. Dean looked at it for a moment before he turned his eyes back to Sam's. Dean blinked away a tiny bit of moisture that had been rimming the bottom of his eyelashes. Sam only saw the moisture for a millisecond before it was gone, Dean's expression turned back to stone. 

_**Flash** Sam locked a door behind him, stepping up towards a bed, his eyes on Dean's face. Dean turned to him, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek, but there were already tear tracks from both eyes, and the pillow looked damp with tears. **Flash**_.

Sam took his hand back off of Dean's knee, looking down at his hands in shock. Sam had made Dean cry. Oh my god, Sam had made Dean cry. Sam sat in silence for a moment, unable to form words.

"Dean? Did I hurt you?" When Sam looked back up to Dean, he startled a bit in surprise. Dean looked at Sam for a moment, his eyes wide and pitiful. Dean's voice was a lot softer now, more soothing than accusing.

"No, Sam, it wasn't like that."

"Dean. Did I hurt you?" Sam repeated it, more insistent this time. "Did it hurt?"

Dean hesitated, dropping his gaze for a moment. He looked like his pride was wounded desperately, but he answered honestly at least.

"Not really. I mean, a little I guess, but everyone's first time hurts, right?"

Sam froze in horror. 

"Oh my god," he whispered, eyes flipping back up to Dean's. "That was your first time. I hurt you and it was your first time. Oh god, Dean, I'm so sorry." 

Sam buried his face in his hands, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. Dean was on him in seconds, flipping over next to him on the couch, putting an arm over Sam's shoulders and rubbing Sam's leg with his other hand. Dean leaned forward, saying his next words close to Sam's ear. 

"Shh, shh. It's okay. I swear, I'm fine Sam." Sam lifted his head out of his hands, turning his head to look at Dean. Dean was still rubbing his back and thigh, trying to soothe Sam when Sam should be the one wrapping Dean up and taking care of him. 

"Why didn't you stop me?" The words came out broken from in between tears.

"I, uh, was kind of tied up. Literally." And just when Sam thought it couldn't get any worse. Dean saw the look on his face and instantly took it back, trying to soothe Sam again. "Really, Sam, it's not a big deal, okay? I can handle myself. I'm fine. I promise, Sammy."

"I did this Dean, I did this to you."

"It's not your fault. It wasn't _you._ "

"You keep saying that Dean, but it was still my body that did that to you. I tied you up and I fucked you Dean, that doesn't just go away." Sam pulled over to the side, away from Dean's comforting touches.

Dean let him pull away, drawing back his touch and clasping his hands together in his lap. Dean stared at his hands, his thumbs absentminded running into each other.

"You didn't tie me up, Meg did. You just didn't _untie_ me. Well, you did eventually. It wasn't like you raped me, Sam. And you weren't a total dick about it either. I mean, you came in and cleaned me up afterwords."

"Dean, I. I don't even know how to begin to make this right. You can't just let me off the hook like that, pretend it didn't happen-"

"Actually, Sam, I can. And I'm going to. They're my memories, I can do with them what I want. Okay?" Dean's voice was teetering on angry again, and Sam knew better than to pursue the topic. Sam just pressed his lips together tightly and looked down. Sam let out a shaky breath, trying to slow his heartrate back to something normal.

"Now, let's get out of this town before you start remembering things from your time downstairs. Okay, Sam?"

"Dean, I'm not leaving." The topic changed, the argument now more about Sam's safety than the past events he couldn't remember clear enough to not feel guilty for. Sam just kept replaying what images he could remember over and over in his head, mixed in with a few bits and pieces now that Dean filled in in his brief account of what happened. Sam could see it now, how when he tossed Dean onto the bed, Dean's hands were roped together behind his back. How when he locked the door behind him to see Dean's tears, Sam had clean washcloths in his hand. It didn't make him feel any better about this entire thing, but Dean was obviously not talking about it anymore. 

Sam had to find a way to fix this. Dean was clearly still upset about it, or else he wouldn't be shoving the memories down so far. Sam would make it up to his brother. Somehow.

~*~*~*~*~

"You okay?" Sam turned his head a bit, not enough to see Dean but enough to acknowledge he was there.

"You were right. We should never have come back here."

"Well, you did kill spiderman." Sam snorted. At least Dean was in a better mood now than earlier.

"So you're suggesting what I did back there was a good thing?"

"I'm just sayin'." Sam turned around now, looking at Dean's much too nonchalant face.

"What?"

Dean looked at him for a few seconds, then moved his mouth like he was making words, but no sound came out. Dean looked over to the side, shuffling in place and bringing a hand up to his face like he did when he was upset about something. Or nervous. Or uncomfortable. And either of the three would fit in this situation.

"Sam y-you, you gotta understand that all that crap last year, all of it, none of it was you." Sam huffed out a dubious laugh. He was surprised Dean had brought it up again at all, but it was just another attempt to get Sam to forgive himself for everything he did to this town and to Dean.

"Let's be crystal clear, okay? It was me." _It was my hand that pulled the trigger, it was my body that pressed yours down to take advantage of. It was my mind that had the capability of all of those things. It was me that did it. Me._

Dean seemed to hear everything Sam was thinking, but he didn't have words to reply. Dean just kind of shook his head a bit, putting a hand on the back of his neck and turning over to the couch in defeat.

"Well, can I get you anything?" That was so Dean, trying to take care of Sam when it was actually himself that needed the waiting on.

"What are you now, my waitress?"

"Just trying to make you feel better, don't be a bitch." Sam considered for a moment turning the tables on Dean, telling him that _he_ was the one in need of fixing, but found he didn't really have the heart. It would just make Dean more upset, being treated like he was broken. Dean didn't take very well to the whole nursing thing.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam said instead. Dean's gaze was still on Sam, but he turned to his bag eventually.

"Yeah, you look fine." Sam wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a hint at something sexual or just a general sarcastic mark, but he just packed his bag in silence instead. "All I'm saying is, everything's going to be okay."

The words had nothing to do with the Arachnee or this town, and everything to do with the relationship between them. Dean wasn't going to let the past couple of months have any affect on how they acted now, which was actually a relief. Sam would understand if Dean was wary of him, but his brother was already just as trusting as he'd been a year and a half ago. Sam didn't feel like he deserved it, but at least it meant he still got to have his brother. But the rest of the world wasn't going to be as understanding and forgiving as Dean was, and Sam still had to face the rest of the world too.

"I dunno Dean, if I did this here, than who knows how many other-"

Suddenly the room was swallowed into blackness and Sam was falling, falling fast into darkness that was spotted in red and fire. He squeezed his eyes and screamed against the heat, only to open them to the bars of flesh and bone of Lucifer's cage. 

" _DEAANNN!!_ "


	59. Visage (Mannequin 3: The Reckoning  06x14)

"Check it out! This thing's freaking awesome." Dean sped up a bit, reaching a hand out to the creepy ass doll. He put his hand on the awkwardly spotted lung, slightly surprised as it came off with his touch. Dean looked at it for a moment, then quickly set it down in favor of what he saw underneath. Perfect.

Dean reached out again, gently plucking the heart out of the doll. He and Sam had made up earlier, when Sam had agreed to drop all the shit that happened in the past. Dean was more relieved than he had felt, well, ever. During those two or three minutes, Dean had been more frantic and desperate and upset than he had been since Sam had dropped to his knees with a knife in his spinal chord. He had honestly thought Sam was gone, had just kept on repeating his name, pleading for him to come back. Dean had run his hands over Sam's face, through his hair, smoothing it away from his eyes. He had wanted to kiss Sam awake, to breathe life into him with his own mouth, but he still feared the flashbacks. Dean wasn't sure if kissing Sam would just bring on more memories of the time Sam was soulless, send him deeper into wherever he was. So he'd just cradled his brother's body, hand over Sam's heart and fingers digging into the tattoo there, through all of Sam's layers of shirts. When Sam's eyes finally opened, the shock and relief that crashed through Dean's body was enough to break him into the most grateful human being alive. Which was why he happened to be in a really fabulous mood right now. Not only was Sam alive and healthy and okay, he'd also agreed to stop digging in the past and to forget about everything that happened between them. 

Dean spun on his heel towards Sam, holding out the plastic heart.

"Be my Valentine?" Dean said the words low, teasingly but actually quite sincere. All he got from Sam though, was a glance and a sass face.

"Dude, we're working. Put it back." Since when was Dean not allowed to hit on Sam while they were working? Dean used to hit on people all the time while they were working. It was part of the job description basically. But at least Sam hadn't said no. He'd just dodged the question.

"Have a heart." Dean grinned at his own pun, his eyes sparkling as Sam met them again. Sam's agent facade broke for a millisecond, his expression turning warm and amused, even slightly flattered. Then the business visage came back, and Sam turned on his scolding face.

"Dean." Dean snorted at Sam's seriousness.

"Buzzkill." Dean got a sass face in return for that one, but he was undeterred and just tossed the heart up in his hand, catching it a couple of times before he put it back. The ringing of his phone interrupted what he planned on saying next, so he had to wait until they were out of the science lab to finish the conversation. 

Dean put the Impala in park, turning to look at Sam as he reached for the door. Dean had stopped in front of the house of the janitor's girlfriend, and was dropping Sam off before he went to go investigate the history of the lab. 

"Hey Sam?" Sam paused for a moment, door already swung open and one leg half out of the car. Sam drew his leg back in, turning to Dean.

"Yeah?"

"All I wanted was a kiss back there." Dean's face turned up in a shy smile, hopefully looking over at Sam. Sam grinned and shook his head, his mind probably running through thoughts about how childish Dean could be. But hey, it could always work, right?

Sam leaned over in his seat, latching his hand on to the back of Dean's head and bringing their mouths together. Dean closed his eyes and made a happy sound into Sam's mouth. Sam's lips moved against his, tilting his head to the side to better slot his mouth against Dean's. Sam tasted faintly of the fruity chick coffees he drank, but Dean secretly liked the taste. Well, on Sam anyways. Dean wouldn't drink the actual coffee, hell no. 

_(Although he had ordered one automatically the first time he had gone to a coffee shop when Sam was in hell. He'd gone up to the counter, saying the same order he had said for the past five years, thinking nothing of it. The man had handed him the two coffees and Dean had paid and left, not even realizing until he'd gotten to the Impala that he had no one to give the second one to. He'd stood there in shock for a moment before he dumped the whole thing in the trashcan, his coffee too. The fourth and final time that happened, Dean decided not to trash it, and actually drank his. He'd taken the other one back to Lisa's, but didn't give it to her. He was afraid she'd like it, and ask him to order it for her. And Dean wouldn't be able to handle that. So he'd actually ended up tasting it, which had made him cry, because it tasted like morning Sam.)_

The kiss was much too short for Dean's liking, but it was a unique one. It felt like they were two teenagers, making out in his parent's car for the first time. Dean was still smiling as Sam pulled away, taking just a moment to savor the feeling before he flicked his eyes back open. Sam was looking at him, his own smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, I'll be your Valentine, Dean." Dean looked down, blushing slightly. He fought the urge to tackle Sam and kiss him again, instead just clapping a hand on his shoulder and pushing him towards the outside.

"Get outta here," Dean voice was rough, but still had smiling undertone. Sam went along, laughing slightly as he stepped out of the car.

"I love you too, sweethea-" Dean cut off Sam's teasing remark as he reached over and shut the shotgun door. Sam was still laughing as he stood on the sidewalk and watched Dean pull away. Dean watched Sam in the rearview, still unable to keep the grin off of his face.


	60. Solicitious (The French Mistake  06x15)

"Jared, honey, is there something you need to tell me?" Sam looked up from the couch, meeting Gen?'s eyes from across the room.

"Hmm? Um, what, no I just don't feel very well."

"So this has nothing to do with the fact that Jensen is actually talking to you now."

"What? Oh, uh, no. Not at all." Gen crossed her arms and made a face.

"Like I'm supposed to believe that. Look, do you still have feelings for Jensen? I know you guys were like, together, back in the first couple of seasons, and I know he broke your heart with Danneel and everything, but I thought we were past that. I mean, you told me you were past that."

Sam nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but this whole acting gig was hard.

"Yeah, no, it's nothing to do with the fact that I. Uh. Dated Jensen?"

"Well, it wasn't like it was public, and it wasn't like it was ever official. I've told you before, if he never actually asked you out, Ten Inch Hero wasn't cheating on you."

"Right, yeah. No, I know that. I just, my head hurts, long day at work, you know the drill."

Gen sat in silence, just looking at him for a moment. Sam felt like she could see right through him, could see his every thought. Finally she sighed and got off the bed, padding over to the couch across the room and placing a hand on Sam's forehead.

"Do you want me to make you some tea or something? Then you can come to bed and we'll see if we can't find a way for you to relax." Sam swallowed, grimacing. He thought he had found a way out of this earlier, with his whole sick act. But that had just lead to questioning.

"Actually, I uh. I'll take a raincheck, I'm just not. In the mood? My head and everything. But I wouldn't really mind a cup of tea, if you wanted to make one."

Genevieve looked at him funny. She gently stroked his hair, and Sam had to admit. This Jared guy really did have it good. 

"I'm not making any tea. But I'm sure Rita won't mind, she's probably still dusting things anyways." Rita? Did they have a maid or something?

"Alright, well, I'm going to get some sleep in the mean time, so just. Don't worry if I'm gone when you wake up."

Gen nodded and padded towards the door in her fuzzy slippers.

"Just, don't go elope with Jensen or anything while I'm gone, okay?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I don't know Sera. Orange, maybe. They started talking to each other."

"What? But, that's a good thing."

"Right, I thought so. But now Jensen is living at Jared's house and the press is all over it. I mean, the publicity isn't going to kill us, but Gen has thrown a fit."

" _Oh_. What, did they have a sexual scene or something that made them suddenly realize their feelings for each other?"

"No, they're acting like they've secretly been this way all along. You can't get that close that fast. I just don't understand. I mean, if they're gay, fine, they could go get married for all I care. This is Canada after all. But then why did Jared ever marry Gen in the first place? That just complicates things."

"I don't know, Bob. But let Gen know we'll handle the press for her. I mean, leaving your wife for your co-star. That's a little emotional."

"You should've seen the cover of People. Actually, go look it up. Some of the paps caught Jensen and Jared walking with their arms all over each other. Jensen's got his hand right above Jared's ass and Jared's hand was in Jensen's back pocket. _As_ they were walkin up to Jared's front door! It's almost like they're asking for publicity."

"Maybe that's all this is, just a publicity stunt. Maybe they're just looking for some sort of raise?"

"I don't know Sera. Maybe. I'll talk to them about it. I can't seem to get them alone though, they follow each other around like damn puppy dogs. And the way they look at each other, if we ever caught that on film? People'd do nothing but talk about the homoerotic subcontext of supernatural."

"Well, you just talk to them, I'll see what strings I can pull."

"Alright, sounds good Sera. I'll keep you updated."

"Right. Thanks, Bob."

 _Click_.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"This might be it. We might be stuck here."

Sam looked over at his brother, reading off any hidden emotions. There was the obvious hesitant questioning, but beneath that, Dean's much too calm stance and defeated looking shoulders tipped off Sam to what he was actually feeling. Dean was expecting some sort of rejection. He almost looked defeated, solicitious. Sam turned his head away from Dean again, knowing he felt uncomfortable with scrutiny when he was upset.

"No. We'll figure out a way back." Sam clenched his teeth together, fighting his emotions down. The idea of becoming permanently stuck in an alternate universe did _not_ sound like a good thing. 

"Yeah, you wouldn't be that broken up if we didn't, though." Dean was facing the window now and Sam watched Dean's back as he spoke. There was so much tension in his shoulders, it was ridiculous. Sam didn't want to upset Dean any further, but if Dean tensed himself up like that much more, he was going to be sore. And quite complain-y. 

Sam crossed the room in a few long strides, lifting his hands up to Dean's shoulders. Dean had felt him coming, so he didn't jump when Sam's hands curled gently on him, fingers brushing Dean's clavicle bones.

"What? Don't be stupid." Sam shook his head credulously, slowly guiding Dean forwards a few steps to the couch. He pushed his palms down, forcing Dean to sit on the orange cushions. Dean obliged, turning slightly to the side as he did so. Instead of sitting in front of Dean like Dean was expecting, Sam moved up behind him and sat down, folding his legs into criss-cross-applesauce. Sam immediately got to work on Dean's shoulders, kneading his thumbs into the knots. Dean let out a soft moan and leaned back into Sam's hands, let him work out all of the stress that had trapped itself in his muscles. 

"Well, I'm just sayin'," Dean's words came out a little broken and he cleared his throat before he continued, making the next words a lot less of a byproduct from the massage. "No hell below us, above us only sky?"

Dean threw up his hands, emphasizing his point. Sam dug his fingers a little deeper into Dean's muscle, making Dean's entire body shudder and his head tilt back automatically. 

"Dean, our friends are back there," Sam reminded him. 

Dean nodded slightly in agreement then dropped his head onto his chest. Sam moved his hands to Dean's neck, thumbing and massaging the tension out. Sam's fingers skirted along the neckline of Dean's jacket, dipping below slightly and rubbing circles into Dean's flushed skin. 

"Yeah, but." Dean lifted his head again, turning it to the side so he could see Sam. Sam shifted his hands back to Dean's back, thumbs pulsing along Dean's spine. "Here you got a pretty good life. I mean, back home, the hits have been comin' since you were six months old."

Sam lifted his eyes to Dean's, his hands stilling on Dean's back temporarily. 

"You gotta admit, being a bazillionare, married to Ruby? The whole package, it's not a contest." Dean had twisted his body around so that he was half-facing Sam with his torso and Sam could see both of his eyes, could see the hesitancy and fear that was trapped there. Sam sat in silence for a moment, hands just resting on Dean's back. Dean's facade was faltering even more, cracks in his visage revealing just how broken up he was. Sam took in a breath, meeting Dean's eyes with the same intensity Dean had.

"Well, you know, you were right. We just don't mean the same thing here. I mean, we're not even brothers here, man." Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam's last comment. 

"Right. You know it'd be a lot easier this way now. Sam, if we're not brothers, than we could be-." Dean's voice trailed off, his gaze flickering to Sam's lips for a moment before returning to his eyes. 

"Yeah, I know. And we're in Canada too." Dean's eyes widened and he let out a surprised laugh. Sam had kind of just mentioned getting married. But the look on Sam's face drew Dean back to seriousness pretty quickly. 

"But Dean, I think. I mean, I would rather...I would rather be brothers with you than anything else." Sam watched Dean's eyes go from amused to confused instantly. 

"I mean, I love you Dean, I do, in a lot more ways than brotherly. But being family, that always comes first, you know? If I had to choose between no longer being your family and never being able to kiss you again, I'd choose to stop this," Sam gestured to the two of them, inferring to their relationship beyond brothers, "every time. It's not that I don't love kissing you, I do Dean. A lot more than you will ever know. But I'd give it up if I got to keep our unbreakable bond as brothers. We're more than just blood, Dean. We're _brothers_. And I wouldn't give that up for any life I could have."

Dean's eyes were a little watery as he nodded. Dean smiled and wiped at his eyes, clearing his throat.

"I raised you right, kiddo. Family comes first." Sam smiled and ducked his head. It was the second time Dean had ever admitted to the fact that it was _Dean's _fault for all of his accomplishments. (The first time had been when Dean was dying, for real. _Remember what Dad taught you._ Sam had nodded, tears already streaming down his face. But then came the kicker: _Remember what_ I _taught you._ ) It was _Dean's_ fault Sam was even still alive, in more ways than just bringing him back from the dead. Dean had taught Sam everything he ever learned, had shaped him and helped him into the person he was today. Which wasn't the best, but he'd still managed to overcome possession of an archangel and save the entire world. So Dean hadn't done all that bad.__

Dean cleared his throat, slapping a hand on Sam's knee.

"Alright then. Let's get our crazy show back home." Sam smiled again. He was already home. Dean was home. But going back to their universe would definitely be nice.


	61. Subjugated (...And Then There Were None  06x16)

"Welcome to next time." Dean lifted his gun, finger milliseconds away from pulling the trigger when he got sidelined by a massive force. Suddenly all of his senses were subjugated, going from kill mode to Sam mode. Sam's left hand was grasping Dean's hip firmly, and Sam's right arm was slung over Dean's chest, encompassing him with an overwhelming warmth.

"No, no, no. Hold on." Dean was so not in the mood for this, when Dean made promises he damn well kept them. Except now Sam was on top of him and Dean was suddenly thrown in a cage of obedience.

"I said I'd kill him." Sam tapped Dean's chest with his arm and tightened his fingers into Dean's hipbone. That was so going to bruise. 

"Look, just a second!" Sam's eyes were staring intensely at Dean, but Dean's vision of red killer glare was still turned on Samuel. If anyone else besides Sam had tried to stop Dean, Samuel would have already been dead. And the person that tried to stop Dean probably would have been on the floor, knocked out cold. But this was Sam, and the way he was touching Dean was physically affecting him, making him visibly untense himself. Which was very annoying and unfortunate. 

Dean's body automatically synced itself to Sam's, his breathing slowing to match the steady rise and fall of Sam's chest. Now that his breathing had returned to normal, his rage was a bit more under control. But that didn't mean Dean didn't still want to lift his gun and shoot Samuel between the eyes.

It took Dean a moment to observe the fact that Sam had hardly even acknowledged Samuel's presence. Samuel had a gun out, but Sam didn't seem to mind, keeping his back to Samuel, although his shoulders weren't squared off enough to make it intentional. Sam was literally standing, facing Dean. Giving Dean 100% of his attention. Even though there was a dangerous man who tried to kill him standing a few feet behind him with a loaded gun and no morals not to shoot it. It was like Sam didn't even care. Was it because he trusted that Dean would put a bullet through Samuel's skull before he could even get the gun pointed properly in Sam's direction? Or just because he was like Dean, and somehow lost all sense of whoever else was in the room when they were touching. Or maybe it was both.

"I take it you know each other." A sassy and rough voice said from across the room. Dean was too intent on _kill_ to turn his head. Any fiber of him that wasn't focused on destroying Samuel was focused on the places where Sam's body was touching his.

"He's our grandfather." Sam's thumb ran a small circle on the inside of Dean's hip, slowing down Dean's racing mind. The arm against Dean's chest lifted off a little bit of pressure, just resting there now.

"Oh. Somebody needs a hug." Another circle on his hip.

"Why are you here?" Bobby's voice cut through. Dean wondered for a brief moment what this looked like to the other four people in the room. Bobby probably wasn't surprised, but everyone else might be assuming things, thinking things with the way Sam was all over him right now. And if Dean could physically feel the effect it was having on him, he was sure that other people could see it. Hell, people on the moon could probably see how Sam made Dean go from his demonic killing side to this collected killer. They could probably see how Dean's quick, ragged breathing had slowed to match in time with Sam's. Could probably see how Dean's muscles all relaxed into a more alert, less irrational state. Dean wondered what they all would think.

"We're working. You?"

"None of your damn business." Dean practically shouted it, and Sam pressed his arm back firmly on Dean's chest again, his fingers bruising Dean's hipbone even more.

"Sam, take Dean for a walk." Dean turned his head towards Bobby, not even sure if he'd heard those words right.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Then Sam was leaning in closer to Dean, and Dean's damn body reacted beautifully, arching closer to Sam and turning all of his focus on those hazel eyes.

"Look, Dean, it's fine." As much as Dean didn't want it to be, Sam's voice was soothing. And it sounded like he didn't mind that Bobby had just written them off as some couple he could just use one to drag the other along. Like, that was low. "Take Dean for a walk?" Really? Like Dean was Sam's goddamn girlfriend or something. And how Bobby was using Sam to his advantage, knowing it was the only thing that Dean always put first. Sam always came first, always, and now he'd _have_ to go.

Dean turned his head towards Samuel again, glaring him down.

"How?" Sam didn't answer him, briefly glancing at Samuel as though he were a wall, and crowded his body up against Dean's, pushing him backwards. Sam made a small grunt with the effort and Dean obliged a bit, letting Sam's body push him backwards. Sam kept his hands on Dean's chest and hip, squeezing him almost roughly as he moved them towards the door. Dean backed up with Sam, letting the heavy weight across his chest be the strap that guides him. Dean didn't even care that everyone saw this, saw Sam's hands all over him. He was still too pissed about Samuel.

As they neared the door, Sam turned Dean around with the hand that was placed on Dean's hip, manipulating him over to the side and sliding his fingers across Dean's stomach to Dean's other hipbone. The hand on Dean's chest slid up to Dean's shoulder, his fingers curling up around Dean's shoulder and finishing turning him. 

Sam kept the tips of his fingers on Dean's hip until they were outside the door, the blue metal sliding closed behind them as Sam took his hands back. 

"What is wrong with you?"

"Maybe he knows something."

"You don't remember what he did! And I do." The distance between them, the sudden lack of touch was making Dean even more irritated.

"I know. I'm not saying don't, I'm saying not yet." Dean looked past Sam into the room, watching them watch him and Sam. Who even knew what they were thinking. Although, honestly, Dean could care less. Damn them all to hell. They were all exchanging glances, knowing glances. About how Sammy could control his pet Dean. How Dean was so easily manipulated, by the hand of his little brother. Dean couldn't stand the perusing. 

Dean looked at Sam, a hardened look, one that clearly spoke "you should've let me kill him." But there was still a lack of anger there, anger towards Sam, so when Dean turned on his heel and walked away, he knew Sam's sigh wasn't out of a broken heart. Sam was just exacerbated that something had upset Dean that much. Dean wasn't mad at Sam, and Sam knew that. And Sam let him go, gave him his space. Sam knew him well enough now, they trusted each other enough now. Dean just needed a moment to get his head on straight. And he'd be fine spending that moment with Sam, but Dean needed an inside, needed to know what the plan was. So Sam would go back in, figure out everything that was up. They'd meet up later, and plan from there.

It was clear they were fine later, actually more than fine. It felt like they were slowly becoming more and more connected, more and more trusting. They were the only two that stood as a united front in this whole place. Dean felt like he could lean on Sam, he could trust Sam. He knew his brother, knew he'd be able to recognize it the second the monster got to him. If it did. No monster had been able to fool them from recognizing each other yet, although some took longer than others. But when Dean was aware, when he was looking for it, he knew he'd see the signs the second the monster crawled into Sam.

Which is why Dean knew it was actually Sam the next time Sam suddenly had his hands on Dean again. Sam grabbed Dean and hauled him backwards, making him fly a few feet in the air. Sam kind of half-threw Dean, which made him go extremely off balance, but he righted himself quickly.

"Woah, woah woah. Hey, hey hey." Dean had pulled out his gun on hunting instinct, but lowered it before the others did. That was Sam who had just hauled him, it was just that Dean was pretty skittish right now. Everyone was.

"Hold on. Look." Dean had already put his gun down after the initial draw, although the others still had their's pointed at Sam. Dean felt like turning around and saying, _can't you tell it's him, you morons?_ But he didn't, because they probably couldn't tell.

Sam pointed out the booby trap, and they all resumed on their hunt, Dean sticking close to Sam. He could say out loud it was because of Sam's good eyes if anyone asked, but it wasn't. That was just a good enough excuse so Dean could stand closer to his brother. It made him feel more secure, safer knowing that Sam was within reach if Sam was in need of saving. They operated closely together when they worked as a duo, but as a team it looked a little odd to have two people shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip while everyone else stood a few feet apart.

When the lights started flickering, Dean turned around, letting Sam out of his sight for a moment. Then there was a huge slam, and Dean spun back around.

"Dean!" 

"Sam!"

Dean rushed forward at the wall, investigating it for a way through. This is why they stood so damn close all the time, so things like this didn't happen.

"Damn it." Dean tried not to hyperventilate, Sam was a good hunter, he could take care of himself, but Dean didn't believe a word he told himself. Dean had to be with Sam, had to make sure he was okay. He felt Sam pull against the door, nothing but rattling and some noise being the result. Then the cock of a gun.

"Son of a bitch." There was a reason Sam had cocked his gun and Dean couldn't get to him. Sammy needed backup. Now.

"Dean?" 

"Sam!!" Dean shouted the name desperately, like Sam could suddenly appear next to him if he said it loud enough.

"I'm gonna go around, okay?" Always the logical thinker. Here Dean was, trying to figure out how they could get through the wall somehow, reverse it somehow, and Sam was going to go around.

"Alright, watch yourself." 

"Yeah." Sam sounded sincere, and Dean prayed he was.

"C'mon." Dean led the rest of the group out. They had to get to Sammy before Samuel did. They had to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Either it bailed, or it's in either one of you." Dean pointed at Rufus and Bobby.

"Or, it's in either one of you." Rufus returned the look and pointed to him and Sam. Dean shook his head.

"No. We were awake." Rufus just gave him a face.

"Did you have eyes on each other?" 

"Yes," they said in tandem. It wasn't the only thing they had on each other either. "Taking a breather" had turned into taking a breather through each other's mouths. 

"One hundred percent of the time?" Although, technically, Dean's eyes had been closed when he kissed Sam. But still, he'd feel it if something crawled in Sam, right? Did eyes and/or lips count? Dean looked over at Sam and Sam pursed his lips, thinking back to it too. Damn it.

"Define a hundred."

"Like I said." It was the first time that kissing had actually been a drawback during the job. Not that it would deter them in the future. Sam had still been a little upset about the whole "what would mom say" thing, and Dean had needed to clear Sam of some of that stress. 

As soon as they cleared the bend in the hallway, Dean had fisted the front of Sam's jacket and hauled him up against the nearest wall. Sam was still in cuffs, which was a nice little touch, not to mention the perfect payback. Even if Sam didn't remember it. 

Sam had been surprised at first as Dean bombarded his mouth, but had happily gone along with it, biting at Dean's bottom lips and running his tongue over the seam of Dean's mouth. Lips and teeth and tongue clashed, kissing each other hungrily. Dean pinned Sam to the wall with his body, and placed his hands on either side of Sam's head. Sam struggled against his cuffs, trying to free his hands so he could get them on Dean. Dean felt Sam struggle and detached their mouths, grinning wickedly.

Sam whimpered at the loss of contact, pushing himself off of the wall to get close to Dean. Dean placed a hand on Sam's chest, pinning him back down. Dean's lips were just an inch away from Sam's, breathing onto Sam's mouth.

"No, no, no. You get to stay right there." Sam shut his eyes tightly, a groan escaping past his lips. Dean side-smiled, pressing Sam a little harder against the wall with his hand. Dean leaned down to run his tongue along Sam's lips when a loud thump echoed through the hallway. Dean turned his head, and Sam reached up to nip at Dean's jaw. Dean shuddered, turning back to Sam when suddenly another thump sounded.

Groaning, Dean stepped back from the wall, wrapping one hand around Sam's waist and pulling him onto his feet as well. Then they both had ran to the door, just in time to witness the fight, and now here they were.

And apparently, Dean could have been making out with a monster. Although he was still pretty sure the monster hadn't been in Sam.

Wouldn't that be an awkward story to tell.


	62. Ethereally (My Heart Will Go On  06x17)

"Does the name Titanic ring a bell?" 

"Titanic? No." Sam frowned and shook his head. He opened up a new tab to type in the name before he paused, turning to Dean. 

"You know, you could spare me having to do all this research and just ask your boyfriend if he remembers it." Dean looked up from the bed, carefully scanning Sam's face for any signs of malice.

Dean pushed himself off the edge of the bed and hopped back into the middle of the mattress. He stretched out his legs, and grabbed the cup of coffee from the bedside table.

"I'm sure he's busy." Dean finally replied, sipping his coffee nonchalantly. Sam just rolled his eyes, scooting his computer away from him and turning in his chair to face Dean.

"Speaking of busy, what exactly were you guys doing last night? Dude, the lights were still on when _I_ went to sleep, and that's saying a lot." Dean blushed and looked down into his coffee. Sam raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side as he watched his brother.

"Did you two-"

"No, course not."

"Right. Because I'm supposed to believe you've been dating for what, two, three months? And you still haven't had sex. There's no way." Dean just shrugged, tipping his mug back up to his face again. Sam watched his eyes flicker to the ground, and his jaw dropped open with recognition.

"You really haven't. Oh my god, I didn't think you could go a _month_ without sex, let alone two or three. Especially when you're dating the guy."

"Well," Dean huffed, sitting up a little straighter, "he's my first boyfriend and I'm planning on doing this right. So. Get your nose out of my ass and research the damn ship." Sam looked down, laughing ethereally. 

"I will, I will. Although I'm sure you just think he'd smite your ass if something went wrong. Anyways, just. How exactly did the whole thing go down in the first place?"

"What are you, four? Why do you care?"

"It's just interesting." Dean huffed at that, but scooted himself further on the bed to sit against the headboard. He sat his coffee back down again, and crossed his ankles over each other.

"Okay fine. Well, Meg, Soulless you, Castiel and I were all at Crowley's place, sneaking in to go kill the bastard when we ran into some hell hounds. We managed to temporarily outrun them, and had 'em locked up behind a door. Then I kind of had a, uh, panic attack because hell hounds, and yeah. So I was freaking out, and losing focus, and was totally going to get us all killed. Then Cas just, uh, he grabbed my shirt and threw me up against the wall. And he kissed me. And damn, was that a kiss. I mean, he put his hands up in my hair and it was probably the most A+ kiss in existence."

"Dude, okay. We get it. And Cas told me you said something funny afterwords?"

"Uh. Well, I think I said something about feeling clean. I don't really remember, I was kind of just in a daze. And then Meg said she would stay behind and fight the hounds, because if she had to see us all over each other, she'd rather be ripped to shreds by a dog. Then we all just kind of left her. And after we burned up Crowley, I summoned up the courage to ask Cas out, and there you go."

Sam laughed and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. Dean shifted a bit on the bed, bringing his hands up behind his head. 

"You know, if I could pick anything to remember from being soulless, that moment would be it."

"Dude, if you're into that stuff and wanna see me makeout with my boyfriend, just stick around tonight instead of crashing on the couch. I'm sure Cas wouldn't mind putting on a show."

"Dude, no. Not what I meant."

Dean just shrugged, reaching over for his coffee cup and a book. 

"Suit yourself."

Sam scooted his laptop forward again, propping it open and pursing his lips in his usual sass face. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Anyway, let's agree, I did a good thing. One less Billy Zane, and I saved two of your closest friends. And Dean's got a smokin hot boyfriend too." Dean furrowed his brow and looked up at Balthazar.

"Wait, if the boat sunk, then Cas and I-"

"Yeah, you don't date. Well, yet anyways. You still could I suppose." Dean turned to Sam with a look of horror on his face. Sam felt sorry for Dean, he and Cas had had a thing for a long time. They shared a profound bond, and the way they looked at each other, you would think they'd been fucking each other for centuries. And now the look in Dean's eyes, like he had to give up the closest thing to a solid relationship he had. Sam decided he'd switch back on topic, draw the attention away from Dean and his breaking heart.

"Well now someone is killing the descendants of the survivors." Balthazar just looked at Sam, pausing a moment before lifting his hand nonchalantly.

"And?"

"And? That's maybe like, 50,000 people." Dean was still standing there, contemplating his life with a sour expression on his face.

"And?"

"And we need to save as many as we can. We need to know who's after them." Dean's voice was deadly, and he sounded like he might kill Balthazar at any moment.

"Sorry, uh, you have me confused with the _other_ angel, you know the one in the dirty trenchcoat who's in love with you?" Dean flicked his eyes to the side and breathed in, clearly restraining himself from pouncing on Balthazar and breaking his face.

"I. Don't Care." Sam was stil watching Dean out of the corner of his eye, saw the sarcastic smirk before he turned his head.

"Bye boys."

"W-wait wait!" Dean stepped forward into empty space, reaching out for nothing but air.

"Son of a BITCH," Dean was still looking around, like Balthazar would appear again any moment. Or maybe he was looking for Castiel. Dean always did that when he was out of hope, always was looking up, like he could see Cas there. It was kind of sweet, but fairly saddening. 

Sam stepped forward, clapping Dean on the shoulder.

"We'll get this worked out, okay? We're not going to let them take Cas from you that easily." Dean just nodded weakly, plodding back to the bed and picking up his phone. 

"We gotta tell Bobby about Ellen and Jo. And Cas." Sam nodded, joining Dean on the edge of the bed. He hoped he was right, hoped he really could fix all this without having to make Castiel and Dean's relationship go to waste. The least his brother deserved was a good boyfriend.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Cas!" Dean's eyes darted up and down the angel's body, either checking him out or checking to see if it was really him. Although Sam doubted anyone else could have pulled them from that fire and into a field in the middle of nowhere.

"Hello Dean." Castiel hadn't even managed to get another word about before Dean leaped forward and planted a kiss on the angel's cheek. Castiel's entire body kind of rocked to the side with the impact of Dean's body, but he was able to keep himself upright. A sideways smile took over the angel's features as he righted himself and turned his head, leaning in to return the kiss, on the lips this time. Both of their eyes fluttered closed, and Castiel brought his hand up to Dean's cheek as Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, underneath the angel's trenchcoat.

Sam looked away, awkwardly staring at the sky for a moment before clearing his throat. 

"Sorry," Dean said, not sounding sorry at all, as he pulled away from Cas. They looked at each other for a moment longer before Dean took a single step backwards, including Sam in the circle again while still managing to stand as close to his boyfriend as possible.

"Sam," Castiel said, nodding his head in Sam's direction.

"Hey," Sam returned, smiling briefly. "Thanks, man. Where are we?"

"White Russia."

"What?" Sam looked over at Dean, only to see his brother still staring at Castiel, his eyes lovestruck and his lips parted. Yeah, Dean was hardly even here right now, mostly floating off on cloud Castiel somewhere.

Then Dean sort of snapped out of it, looking around him before turning back to Cas.

"Are you aware of what your Frat Bro did?" Ah ah ah, that was jealousy in Dean's voice. Dean had never liked how close Balthazar and the other angels were to Cas, and now that Dean had found out recently that there was a possibility of _losing_ Cas, his jealousy and rage had sparked times a million.

"I'm aware Balthazar can be petuous."

"Well riddle me this: If Fate's going after the boat people, why'd she try to waste me and Sam?"

"I imagine she harbors a certain degree of rage towards you."

"What did we do?" Sam figured he should probably interrupt before they got in a jealousy battle over who loved who more, cause that's where this one felt like it was going.

"Nothing of import, just the tiny matter of averting the apocalypse and rendering her obsolete. I think maybe she's a little irritated about that." Sam was watching Dean watch Cas, saw how Dean's eyes followed Cas's form, scanning him from head to toe every now and then. Sam couldn't really picture what a world without those two dating would look like.

"And you go and dangle yourselves in front of her." That was just like Cas. Ever the protective boyfriend.

Dean nodded submissively, and Sam would apologize too if he thought there was a chance Cas was talking to him. But he wasn't.

"So we've pissed Fate off personally." 

"If I know her, and I do, she won't stop until you're dead." Castiel took a step towards Dean at that, his hand landing on Dean's waist. Dean rested his hand on Cas's arm, looking down at the ground for a moment before smirking.

"Awesome. So what do we do?" Cas was stroking his fingers back and forth on the tiny part of Dean's back they were touching, curling and uncurling his hand underneath Dean's jacket.

"Kill her." Castiel's fingers still for a moment, and Sam drew his eyes away from Cas's hand to his face. 

"Kill Fate." Sam could not believe they were having a conversation about killing Fate. Jeez, the people Dean dated. Sam kind of smirked, laughing surprisedly at Castiel's expression.

"Do you have another suggestion?" Dean tore his gaze away from Castiel for a moment, looking over at Sam. It was almost funny, the two of them practically attached to each other, facing him with the same expression playing across their features.

"No, I uh. I just mean. Can you even do that?"

"Balthazar has a weapon that will work against her." Sam saw the hit coming before it did. Dean practically shuddered at Balthazar's name, and the fact that Cas kept bringing him up...well that made for one very jealous, very angry boyfriend.

"Of course he does, yeah, that guy's just got it covered, you know what I mean?" Dean had pulled away from Cas and crossed his arms over his chest, looking like a pouting four year old. Cas was looking at the ground, seemingly guilty looking. 

"You need new friends, Cas." Castiel looked extremely apologetic, but Sam knew Cas wasn't giving up his friendship with Balthazar any time soon.

"I'm trying to save the ones I have, Dean." Ouch. But hey, that was fair. Nobody like the clingy boyfriend type anyways.

Dean and Cas locked eyes for a moment, probably in the middle of some side conversation in Dean's head. Finally Cas broke the eye contact, turning over to Sam and acknowledging the fact that yes, Sam was still here.

"We'll have to draw her out."

"Alright well uh," Sam glanced over at Dean, who returned the look placidly, "she's gunnin for us, she's bound to surface again eventually."

"We'll make it easy for her." Castiel looked over at his boyfriend again, Sam slowly becoming invisible again. "I think you have an expression for it. Tempting fate?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked to Sam, who silently nodded, agreeing to the plan.

"Well then, I guess we should be going. Come down if you need anything, you hear?"

Castiel nodded, stepping forward to pull Dean into an embrace. When they pulled away, their eyes locked for a little while, then Castiel leaned forward and pushed his lips against Dean's again, this time a lot rougher and with a lot of intent. Sam turned away but still heard the surprised moan from Dean. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to ignore the very obvious kissing sounds behind him. Those two drove him insane sometimes.

Then he and Dean were back on the road, walking on their destination of death. Today was chalking up to be quite the eventful day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam jerked awake, thanks to a wide hand across his chest. He sat up, watching Dean open the door and get out of the Impala. Sam followed suit, stretching and blinking a few times. Wow, he had some serious issues. Something was epically fucked up with his dreams nowadays.

"Dude what time is it?" Dean pulled back the sleeve on his jacket, looking at his watch. Sam didn't wait for a reply, he started talking again. "I just had the _weirdest_ dream." 

Dean smiled and shook his head, his hands coming up to emphasize his next words.

"Twenty bucks says mine was weirder, not kidding." 

"Oh no no, I'm not kidding either. I mean it was. It was bizarre." Sam watched as Dean subconsciously licked his lips, and instantly thought back to watching Dean and Cas kiss. Apparently Sam _hadn't_ gotten over his jealousy issues.

"Mine had the actual _Titanic_ in it." Sam tilted his head to the side. Wait, Sam's did. Not Dean's. Unless. Dean caught the look on Sam's face and his laughter suddenly died. 

"What?" Sam reeled back, looking at Dean curiously. "Somethin on my face?"

Sam ignored Dean's vain assumption, although he briefly took the opportunity to sweep his eyes over all of Dean's features.

"Did it, did it. Uh. Not sink? Because Balthazar-"

"Had a hate on for Billy Zane?" Sam stared at Dean, although Dean looked even more surprised than Sam did.

"Why are you having my dreams, dude?" Dean looked mortified, although Sam supposed that was reasonable, based on how Dean had been dating Castiel in the dream. Sam wondered briefly how often Dean dreamed about Cas, although Dean did say that the dream had been weird to him too. But maybe that wasn't the weird part? Either way, Sam didn't have the chance to ask, because the beating of wings suddenly filled the air, and a voice penetrated their stare-down contest.

"It wasn't a dream." Castiel was standing a few feet away, and Sam automatically turned to Dean, both of their expressions the same level of surprise and confusion.

"Wait, what?" Dean started walking around the Impala, approaching Cas. "You're saying this actually happened? The whole, whatever, that was real?" 

Sam watched Dean, concerned about how he might react. This could really go either way, although Sam knew exactly how he wanted it to go.

"Yes."

Dean looked down like he was re-contemplating his entire existence. Sam figured he needed a moment to let the idea that he was dating Cas at one point actually sink in, so he drew the attention away from Dean and to himself, shutting the door to the Impala with a little bit too much force.

"So _what_ happened?"

"Well I insisted he go back in time and correct what he had done."

"What?" Sam looked back at Dean, saw his confusion mirrored, and looked back at Cas. "Why?"

Sam had known that Castiel liked Dean for a long time, and the idea that he just gave that up for a ship? Sam wasn't exactly following the logic here.

"It was the only way to be sure you were safe." Castiel was very carefully looking at Sam, although his eyes darted to Dean once. Dean was still standing there in shock, his emotions flashing all over the place on his face.

"So you killed. 50,000 people for us." Dean's eyes darted back and forth. Okay, so for a guy that was supposedly not interested in Castiel, Dean was taking this whole breakup thing way way harsh. Like, he probably should've gotten over it approximately three minutes ago.

"No I didn't. They were never born. That's far different from being killed, wouldn't you say?"

Sam scoffed and looked down. Dean's mouth quivered as he tried to form words, but failed the first couple of times. He finally managed out, "Ellen and Jo?"

Castiel just looked down and sighed. That should have been answer enough, but Dean was still staring him down. Sam had caught on to the fact that Dean was asking about more than just Ellen and Jo. His question had been "Dean and Cas?" too.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said quietly. Dean blinked a few times, turning over to Sam. Sam gave him a sympathetic look, knowing this would be even harder for Dean than him. Dean turned half around, scuffing the toe of his boot into the ground.

"Hold on. Uh." Dean sat down on the hood of the Impala and Sam shifted his weight in front of Dean, putting himself between Castiel and his brother. He could protect Dean when needed, Dean wasn't the only one who knew how to be a barrier.

"So if you guys went and, and changed everything back, then that whole timeline, or whatever. It just got erased?"

"Yeah." Castiel nodded and stepped forward. Sam fought the urge to scoot closer to Dean, to guard him from this conversation entirely. "More or less."

"Well than how come he and I remember it?" Castiel was standing a foot away from Dean now, a little taller than the sitting Dean.

"Because I wanted you to remember it." Cas wanted Sam to mistrust him then? If Cas was looking for a way to fuck up the relationship between him and Dean, well this sure was an interesting idea.

"Why?" Sam demanded. 

"I wanted you to know who Fate really is." Well then, you could've just told us that. We never even actually saw anything but a glimpse of her in a dirty window. "She's cool and capricious."

"I'd go so far as bitch." Dean seemed a little less distressed now. Probably because he was buying into Cas's bullshit explanation for stuffing those memories in their heads.

"Well yeah. You're the ones who taught me that you can make your own destiny. You don't have to be ruled by Fate. You can choose freedom. I still believe that that's something worth fighting for."

Rough translation: You two went against the odds and found a way to each other, and I have the freedom now to do the same. And I still believe Dean is something worth fighting for. But Sam wasn't going to call Cas out on his rough translation, he didn't want to actually talk about it and possibly bring up Dean's agreement with Cas.

Dean raised his eyebrows at the last sentence, so maybe he heard the same rough translation that Sam did.

"I just wanted you to understand that." Cas's gaze was locked on Dean, and Sam suddenly became invisible. Again. So basically, Cas was using this whole thing to let Dean know that he was still fighting for him, and he wanted Dean to know that his feelings for Dean hadn't changed. Well that was just great.

Dean nodded slightly. Then he stood up, quickly changing the topic.

"Wait, so did Balthazar really unravel the sweater over a chick flick?"

"Yes. Absolutely, that's what he did."

"Wow, well, might be time to take away his cable privileges."

Cas smiled slightly, then Dean was turning to Sam and Sam stopped analyzing the angel. Or anything else besides Dean.

"Besides, Titanic didn't suck that bad." Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean. Dean had complained like a bitch during that entire movie. And for the week after it. "Winslet's rack?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Right. Like Dean had done anything that entire movie besides complain to Sam and draw pentacles on Sam's stomach with his fingertips. They'd watched it a couple months before Dean went to hell, didn't they? Yeah, Dean had curled into Sam's side and Sam had thrown his arms around Dean, pulling him close despite his bitching about the fact that they were watching a chick flick. But neither of them felt like unwrapping from each other to go change the channel on the shitty motel tv, and it didn't come with a remote, so they'd just ended up watching it.

Dean was still nodding appreciatively and Sam snorted, turning his head back to Cas, only to find the angel wasn't there anymore. 

"Well I'll tell you one thing about Cas. He doesn't appreciate the finer things."

Sam huffed out a laugh and turned, walking back inside. He heard Dean pat his Impala and begin to follow.

"Well, he appreciates you." Sam didn't turn around, forcing Dean to answer with words instead of a bitch face.

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or a jab at the dream I wasn't intending to have. Are we going to have to talk about this?"

"Nope." Sam said, reaching the door and swinging it open, stepping aside to let Dean through first.

"Suit yourself," Dean shrugged, crossing the threshold. 

Sam was happy to play Dean's little game of bury and forget for now, just so he could see how this played out. If they talked about it before Dean had a night to brood over it, then Dean's opinions might change. So they would talk about it, just. Not yet.


	63. Hubris (Frontierland  06x18)

"So you need to learn your place." The pretty blonde angel's voice hardly matched her death glare.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are-"

"I'm his friend."

"Wait, you think we're not?" Dean looked over at Sam, nodding his head slightly in agreement. Who gave this bitch her daily dose of hubris?

"I think you call him when you need something. You _use_ him, take advantage of him because you think you can. And even now, now that you know how he feels about you? You _still_ treat him like he's nothing more than a faithful pet! He deserves better than you and he never should have fallen for a human, you petty, entitled piece of-"

"Rachel." Castiel's voice interrupted the angel's rant. Everyone in the room stilled, turning their heads to Castiel. Cas didn't meet any of their eyes, just looked forward. "That's enough." 

Silence followed the command, until Rachel finally turned to Castiel.

"I told you I'd take care of this."

"It's alright, you can go." Rachel's eyebrows shot up like she had been slapped.

"You're staying?"

"Go." She fixed him with her evil death glare, then turned to Dean for just a moment before she disappeared. If there was anyone who ever looked like they really wanted to kill Dean, Rachel would probably take the cake on that one.

"Wow. Friend of yours?" Dean turned to Cas, who seemed oddly complacent and collected.

"Yes. She's my lieutenant. Committed to the cause. Now what do you need?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Dean, I can wear this."

Dean would not be deterred by Sam's bitch face.

"And look like a spaceman?"

"Look, just because you're obsessed with all that Wild West stuff-

"Am not-"

"You have a _fettish._ "

"Shut up, I like old movies!" Fettish. Ha. He did not have a fettish. Or even if he did, it wasn't like Sam would act on it. Dean grumbled the next words under his breath, but Sam heard them anyways. "Besides, even if I did, it's not like you'd play along."

Sam just shot him an epic bitch face that meant they were not talking about this right now in front of Bobby and Cas.

"You can recite every Clint Eastwood movie ever made."

"Even the monkey movies?" Bobby asked, turning to Sam. Well, fine then, don't ask Dean about his movie choices. Just go ahead and ask Sam instead. Just because Sam could answer for him didn't mean he _should_.

" _Especially_ the monkey movies."

"His name is Clyde." Sam pulled a sassy bitch face and threw up his hand, pointing at Dean. Dean made a face back, although none of his faces could ever dream of being near as sassy as Sam. 

"At least put on the shirt."

Sam grumbled under his breath the entire time Dean followed him upstairs. As soon as they reached the spare bedroom, Dean shucked off his jacket and button up, reaching for the hem of his tshirt and pulling it over his head. Sam made a show of digging in the brown bag and holding up the shirt for inspection, turning to Dean with a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me face on. Dean just shrugged, reaching into his own bag and finding a decorated black button up.

"You wanna help?" Dean asked, throwing the shirt over his shoulders and turning to Sam, hand indicating to the buttons on his shirt. Sam set his own shirt down for a moment, striding over to Dean and nimbly fastening the top button. Dean watched Sam's face as he worked his way down, his fingers brushing Dean's bare chest every time he pushed the button through the hole. Once Sam got down to the last couple of buttons, he dropped to his knees, reaching his hands up instead of having to bend awkwardly in half.

"Woah, woah, woah. Hey, that's dangerous territory." Sam just raised his eyebrows and looked up at Dean, then returned to his buttoning. When he got to the last one, Sam paused for a moment, letting his fingertips ghost over Dean's lower stomach. Dean bit down on his lip as Sam ducked his fingers just along the inside of Dean's jeans, skirting the elastic of his boxers. Dean swallowed and shut his eyes for a moment, tipping his head back. 

"You're excited already, aren't you Cowboy?" Sam's voice was a lot more light-hearted than Dean was feeling, Dean was being very very serious about this whole thing. Before Dean had a chance to respond, Sam's hand pressed down on the bulge in his jeans, and Dean let out a strangled sound. Sam cupped his hand around Dean's erection for just a moment before he removed his hands again to finish the last button. Then Sam stood, towering over Dean again. 

"Sam," Dean started, but he was cut off by a quick kiss that involved a nip or two. Then Sam stepped backwards, releasing his grip on the back of Dean's head and turning around. Dean watched Sam's back hungrily, his eyes darkening with lust. Sam didn't say anything, just started taking off his clothes. Dean's skin flushed, his neck going warm under his collar.

Once his shirts were off, Dean stepped closer to Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam's stomach and pressing a kiss in between his shoulderblades. Sam held still for a moment before he turned around in the loose circle of Dean's arms, their chests brushing each other.

"Do I _have_ to wear this Dean?"

"Aw, c'mon Sam, it'll be hot."

"No, Dean. It won't. I'm going to look ridiculous." Dean just smiled and popped his eyebrows up, releasing Sam from his arms.

"Well, put it on already." Sam was still grumbling under his breath as he pulled the button up over his shoulders. Dean reached out to help Sam with the buttons, but Sam swatted at his hand and turned a bit, insisting on doing them himself. Dean huffed but stepped back, his eyes grazing appreciatively over Sam for a moment before he turned back to his own bag, pulling out the vest that went over his shirt.

He didn't know what the big deal was, Western Wear was awesome. Sam could be such a baby sometimes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Wow that was a close one. Why didn't you help me out, man?" Dean shuddered at the image of the diseased prostitute being inches away.

"What, and stop your new girlfriend how? I couldn't exactly tell her to back off my boyfriend. Because first of all, you're not my boyfriend, and second of all, they probably aren't very open-minded to gays in this time period. Besides, watching you scramble for footing was pretty amusing."

"Bet you wish I was your boyfriend." Dean grumbled, tipping back the whiskey into his mouth. A bitter, burning taste scorched his tongue and throat, and Dean automatically sprayed it out of his mouth in a cough. "Ugh!"

"It's like gasoline." Dean choked out, the taste still clear and burning.

"Sarsaparilla ain't half bad," Sam teased, grinning sideways as he tipped back his shot again. Dean coughed a few more times, and Sam clapped a hand on his back, casually letting the warmth of his hand soothe Dean's body back down to normal. After a few moments, the coughing stopped, and Dean considered shooting Sam a thank you. But one look over at the smug grin on Sam's face and Dean settled for a half-hearted glare. Sam just laughed and sat his glass down on the counter, tipping his hat to the bartender. 

God damn, Sam was beautiful in a cowboy hat. Dean wished they had longer than just twenty four hours, because he'd love to go find some Western motel and just have that cowboy ride him all the way downtown. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey Sammy."

"Yeah, Dean?"

"We actually caught a break for once. You know what that means?" Sam made a disinterested hum, opening the door to the spare bedroom and shucking off his jacket. Sam reached down for the top button of his western shirt, but Dean reached forward and stilled Sam's hands with his own.

"It means we get to celebrate."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, looking down at the two rough hands closed over his before looking back at Dean's eyes.

"What do you mean by celebrate?"

"Well, since we just got back from the Wild West and everything, I'm thinking you should go for a ride. On this cowboy." Dean nodded his head smugly and winked. Sam laughed, lifting his hands and Dean's from his top button and returning Dean's hands to his sides.

"Really? I've been back for this long, and you want to have sex _now_ of all times? Just because you have a fettish for the Wild West thing."

"No, that's not it, we've just been busy! When you first got back, we had your whole flashbacks scratching at the wall thing to deal with, then we had a haunted kidney to deal with and the whole being zapped into TV land crap, and then all the shit with Samuel and Eve's monsters, then we got zapped into _another_ alternate Titanic universe, and when the hell have we had time? Right now, there's nothing else we can do tonight, and we're both not bruised and broken from hunting, and I just _won a showdown at high noon_ , and we got the phoenix ashes, and honestly I think this would be the perfect time to celebrate."

Sam couldn't help but smile at Dean's logic and hopeful expression. He might not be into the whole Wild West thing like Dean, but he had to admit Dean looked pretty freaking hot in a cowboy hat.

"Alright, sheriff, where do you want me?" Sam leaned down and cupped Dean's cheek in his hand, placing a kiss to his brother's lips. Dean reached up into him, his hands coming up to grip Sam's biceps. Dean pushed the kiss a little rougher, gasping as Sam bit down on Dean's bottom lip and fucked his tongue into Dean's mouth. Dean's entire body shuddered, and Sam ran his hand down to the small of Dean's back, pressing Dean's hips flush against Sam's. Then Sam pulled his mouth away, leaving Dean to tip back his head and try to catch his breath. Sam latched on to Dean's neck, biting and sucking a dark red mark. Which would probably turn out to be purple later.

Then Sam was pushing Dean's overcoat to the ground, his fingers swiftly undoing Dean's vest and button up, tossing them aside. Dean's thoughts were anything but coherent, but as Sam pushed him backwards to the one tiny bed in the room, Dean reached out a hand and stopped him.

"Bobby would kill us," Dean panted, placing his fingers under Sam's chin and lifting Sam's head away from Dean's neck. Sam scrunched his mouth to the side, chewing on his lip in thought.

"Yeah, he'd probably pump us full of rock salt. So, what then?" Dean grinned mischievously and turned around, snatching two blankets off the bed.

"Grab one, too. And a pillow." Sam looked at Dean curiously, but grabbed a blanket and pillow and followed Dean out the door. 

At the top of the stairs, Dean turned around and put a finger to his lips, pointing to the room Bobby was probably still in, sitting at his desk reading or lounging on the couch. Sam nodded and tiptoed down the stairs after Dean. On the third to bottom stair, Dean stepped on a tiny creak and they both froze. It went undetected though, and Dean continued down the rest of the stairs. Sam skipped that step, momentarily appreciative for long legs. As Dean rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, passing the entrance to Bobby's study, a rough voice froze them both in their tracks.

"What are you two idjits doing?" Sam stepped up behind Dean and into view of Bobby as well.

"Uh, well," Dean stammered, following Bobby's gaze down to his clothes. Dean was in his white undershirt, a cowboy hat, his nice Western pants, and cowboy boots with spurs, his arms wrapped around two multicolored blankets. Yeah, this was awkward.

"Do I want to know?" Bobby asked cautiously.

"Nope." Dean said honestly. Bobby put his head in his hand for a moment before he reached out for the bottle of whiskey he kept on his desk. He poured himself a shot, shooing them away with his other hand.

"Get outta here before I shoot rock salt at those eager asses of yours."

"Yes sir," Sam said from behind Dean, using his free hand to push Dean forwards. Dean didn't need anymore convincing then that, and he quickly swung open the front door, stepping out into the night. Sam followed and closed the door behind them. 

Dean turned to the left once they got off the porch, walking around the side of the house and appreciating the pretty jingle the spurs on his boots made.

"Dean, where are we going? The Impala is the other direction." Sam had caught up, and was now standing a couple of inches behind Dean's shoulder.

"We can't do it in the Impala, they didn't even _have_ cars in the Wild West. No, we're going real cowboy style." Dean smiled at Sam, turning his head for a moment. Sam just furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but kept up in pace with Dean's walking. There wasn't much grass at Bobby's place, but he had a sort of mini backyard that was blocked from the house by a clothes line. There were a few sheets on the clothes line, and a rug that probably had gotten splattered with something monster at one point. But behind it was the grass Dean remembered to be there, and he stopped, tossing the blankets on the ground.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"What, Sammy afraid of a little wilderness?"

"Dean, we're _outside_."

"That's kinda the whole point Sammy." Sam just stared at him in disbelief, his jaw on the floor. Dean rolled his eyes and bent over, picking up the first blanket and unfolding it, snapping it once in the air to get it straight. Then he waved it out, pulling it to the ground and laying it flat on the grass. This was nice grass too, soft enough so that Sam won't be bitching in the morning. Well, maybe.

Dean set out the next blanket adjacent to the other, and the blankets ended up being big enough to make the makeshift sleeping area a little bigger than a queen sized bed. See, Sam couldn't complain about that. Dean straightened up and walked over to Sam, who still hadn't moved, and took the blanket and pillow from his arms. Dean tossed the pillow down on the blankets, and set the other blanket on the side, so they didn't freeze tonight when they fell asleep. Finally done with the setup, Dean turned to Sam.

"You ready, cowboy?" Sam snorted and did one of his cute upside-down side smiles where the corner of his mouth tugged down but he still ended up smiling and looking adorable somehow.

"I can't believe we're doing this. But yeah, ready as I'll ever be." Sam unbuttoned his shirt finally, this time not getting stopped by Dean. Dean grabbed the bottom hem of his undershirt and lifted it over his head, tossing it over at Sam's bare chest. Sam caught it and tossed it on the ground, getting a weak protest from Dean. Then they were both undoing their own pants, Dean's catching at the bottom of his boots, the spurs stopping the fabric.

"I hate to ruin your fetish Dean, but boots off. If you spurred me, I would literally kill you. So no boots." Dean frowned, but tugged the boots off anyways. 

"I'm keeping on my hat though. And so are you." Sam rolled his eyes but obliged, shivering as he pulled his boxers down, the mildly chilly air softening his cock a bit from it's position on his stomach. Dean looked Sam up and down, his face approving and flirty. 

"Just hurry up already, god, you can be such a girl." Sam sat down on the blankets, watching as Dean finished shedding his clothes. Dean was even harder than Sam, although Sam was quickly just as interested as Dean once he was greeted with all of that bare skin. It was oddly a turn on, Dean's beautiful body in contrast to the dark and alive outside world around them. And then the cowboy hat to top. On the list of things Sam thought might happen in his life, this moment was absolutely not one of them.

"You ready for a ride?" Dean whispered in Sam's ear, having sat down next to him on the blanket. Sam turned his head and covered Dean's mouth with his own, letting his hands stroke down the smooth sides of Dean's body, uninterrupted by fabric. Dean was pressed up to the side of Sam, his dick pressing and slightly wet at Sam's hip. Sam's hands traveled around to Dean's ass, pulling him closer and squeezing. Dean let out a quiet _unf_ and Sam pulled his mouth back.

"I did enough riding today to last me a lifetime," Sam said before kissing Dean again. Dean kissed back for a moment and then pulled away.

"Aw, c'mon Sam."

"Hey, you're the one with the cowboy fetish, I think you should be the one who's riding." Dean straightened his head up, the brim of his hat knocking against the brim of Sam's.

"But you gotta top last time." Dean almost whined, sounding much younger than he was.

"But I don't remember it, so it doesn't count." Sam pulled a sass face and Dean grumbled something inaudible before pressing his mouth against Sam's again. They kissed for longer this time, Dean slowly pushing Sam's shoulders down onto the ground, reaching for the pillow to prop under Sam's head. 

Dean threw his leg over Sam's waist, bringing his hands up to Sam's neck. Sam reached up into the kiss, his hands roaming Dean's back before wrapping around to Dean's chest and sliding him backwards so his ass bumped up against Sam's dick. Sam made a soft noise that Dean lapped up with his tongue, sliding back a little further. 

Then Dean's mouth was gone and Sam closed his eyes for a moment as Dean sat up, leaning back against Sam's thighs. Sam's knees were in the air, his feet flat on the blanket. Dean leaned to the side, reaching over for a bottle of lube from his pants pocket. Sam laughed when he saw what it was, taking the bottle from Dean. 

"You just keep this in your pocket now?"

"You never know when Sammy feels like putting out." Dean laughed as a gentle punch landed on his bicep, although his laughter was cut short by a finger suddenly sliding into his ass. Dean bent in half, his forehead landing on Sam's upper chest as he groaned. Sam worked the finger inside him, eventually adding another slicked up finger. Dean ground his hips into Sam's abs, searching for some kind of friction. Sam's free hand ran down Dean's spine, then back up, tilting Dean's hat a little more back from where it jutted out over Sam's shoulder. 

"Saddle up, cowboy," Sam's voice was low and gravely and just about made Dean come on the spot. He squeezed his eyes tight for a moment before sitting back up, tilting his hat back forward and placing his hands on either side of Sam's ribs. Dean lifted himself up over Sam's slicked up cock, lowering down slowly until he felt the head up against his ass. Sam had a hand on his dick and a hand on Dean's hip, helping guide him slowly down. Dean gasped and a shudder ran through him as he descended slightly, Sam just barely breaching him. Dean took in a deep breath and dropped himself down, taking Sam in almost all the way in one slide. 

Both of them moaned and tightened their grip, both of Sam's hands on Dean's hips now and Dean's hands crumpling up the blanket he'd made so smooth. Dean sunk down the rest of the way, his breath hitching and the air getting caught in his throat. Dean lifted his head up, eyes meeting Sam's from under the brim of the leather. Or whatever material his hat was made of. 

Dean pushed himself back up and slid down, faster this time. Sam bucked up his hips, and their bare skin smacked together as Dean picked up his speed. It was hard to focus with the thick weight of Sam inside him, but Dean somehow managed to have enough brain cells active to find a rhythm. He slid up and down, his ass filling and suddenly almost empty, before being slammed into full again. Dean's breathing was heavy and he could feel Sam's was too, Sam's chest rising and falling quickly under Dean's hands. Dean was using his legs now mostly as he rode Sam, although he was using muscles he didn't even know he had and he was going to be sore as hell in the morning. 

Then Sam shifted his hips, bucking up into Dean at a new angle. Dean cried out as Sam hit the soft spot inside him, his head falling forward onto his chest. When Dean came down this time, he ground his hips around in a circle, moving Sam around inside him. Sam let out a low sound and dug his fingers into the small of Dean's back. Dean brought his hands up to cover Sam's, then pulled them away from his sides and back, placing Sam's hands over his head. Dean kept Sam's arms bent, due to the fact that he wasn't tall enough to pin Sam's wrists when they were all the way outstretched and still ride him, so he settled for bent arms. Sam thrashed his head to the side, making more noise now that he was pinned down and had no control. Dean ground down deeper and rolled his hips more, letting out punched cries of his own every time Sam's dick pushed into his sweet spot. 

"D-dean," Sam groaned, lifting his eyes up to meet Dean's. Dean pushed down one more time, the world suddenly full of sparks as Sam's name rolled off of Dean's tongue and he tightened around Sam, sending Sam off into his own orgasm. They rode them out with a few more thrusts, both of them hardly able to breathe, let alone think. Dean finally collapsed onto Sam's chest, his hat bumping Sam's shoulder and falling off onto the ground. Sam tilted his head back, breathing in deeply in a vain effort to still his trembling body. 

Dean lay on Sam's chest for a moment or two, his own chest rising with Sam's. Dean turned his head and made a quiet noise into Sam's skin as Sam pulled his softening cock out of Dean. Dean lifted his head up and propped his chin on his hands that were now folded across Sam's chest. Sam brought his chin down and met Dean's eyes, a soft smile on his face. 

"See? Westerns aren't all that bad." Dean's mouth twitched up in a smile as Sam grinned at his words. Dean watched Sam, let his eyes drift over all of the features he could see from his position. Sam laid his head back down, his eyelids closing as he brought his hands down from above his head, letting them sprawl lazily on Dean's back. Dean rolled his head to the side, closing his eyes briefly. Then his brain slowly turned back on and Dean opened them, lifting his head to look down between them.

"Oh eew." Dean rolled off of Sam, his fingers touching the come on his chest hesitantly. Sam peeked an eye open and looked at Dean, then laughed. 

"What were you expecting, princess?"

"Oh shut up."

Dean was on the other blanket, and pulled over the corner of it to wipe off his skin. It didn't do as much as he would've liked, so he reluctantly hauled himself to his feet, planning on padding over to the water hose. His legs gave out on him though, and he practically toppled on top of Sam. Sam let out an "oof" as Dean's ribcage landed perpendicular on Sam's stomach. Dean managed to lessen the impact of his fall with his hands, and Sam's body, so it didn't bruise much besides his ego.

"You would so be dead if you got stuck in the eighteen hundreds. Clumsy ass cowboy." Sam propped himself up on his elbows, then reached out a hand to steady Dean as he scooted himself off of Sam.

"I thought you liked my ass."

"That doesn't make you any less clumsy."

"Well maybe if you weren't so damn good in bed-"

"Just get over here and kiss me, jerk."


	64. Inappurtenant (Mommy Dearest  06x19)

"Why's it always me who's gotta make the call, huh? It's not like Cas lives in my ass. Dude's busy." Castiel waited patiently as Dean spun around and stumbled backwards, looking extremely surprised to see him. Castiel thought they had gotten over that whole surprise thing. Apparently not.

"Cas, get out of my ass."

"I was never in. your." Cas's words trailed off as he thought back. Had he ever been? He didn't think that he and Dean had had sex in the titanic-less world. Or in the real world. Or in hell. Although he had had his fingers in Dean's ass when they were a couple in the alternate universe. Did that count? 

Dean tilted his head and looked at Cas, confused. Everyone was looking at Cas confused. Well, he wasn't going to have the Dean and Cas conversation right now, not with Sam in the room. Sam was Cas's friend, but that didn't make him any less of a competition. 

Cas turned his eyes away from Dean and looked down at the ground. He would avoid this topic at all costs. He opened his mouth to say something and froze first, giving himself a moment to fully collect himself and make sure his voice was carefully emotionless.

"Have you made any. Progress. On locating Eve?" Dean's posture visibly relaxed, clearly relieved they'd avoided the topic of Dean and Cas as well. Dean shuffled his weight, not quite meeting Cas's gaze.

"No, we were gonna ask you about that." Bobby spoke up and saved Dean from his wordless stupor. Castiel looked from Bobby to Dean, knowing he should be addressing Bobby like was polite, but still unable to keep his eyes off of the green ones in front of him.

"I would look, but she's hidden from me. She's hidden from all angels."

"Awesome." Dean threw his hands up in the air and turned his body half around, acknowledging the two standing behind him. He was still so uncomfortable, it was almost palpably awkward.

As Sam suggested a plan and Dean talked it over with him, Castiel slowly became inappurtenant again. The duo turned to him at one point to ask if he could go find a vampire named Lenore, and Castiel disappeared immediately, taking any opportunity he could to spare himself from having to watch the synchrony of the two brothers. It took him a little while to look, but he found her eventually. The moment he returned to Bobby's basement, Dean saw him and rose from his chair. Dean's forearms uncrossed, the hard lines of muscle fading back beneath skin as he relaxed them. Dean took a step towards Cas, or maybe it was a step toward Lenore. 

Lenore darted away from Castiel, and he stood still, watching the two brothers run her down. A step towards Lenore then. Castiel just stood while they interrogated her, watching the oddly perfect and imperfect movements of Dean, watched how his body language portrayed so much. How he stood, stock still, ever the observant and judging one. Dean didn't even notice Castiel's gaze, which was a rarity. Cas always seemed to be getting a stern talking to about personal space, not staring, all of those things. Maybe that was why he stared now, just so Dean would feel his gaze and turn around. Yell at Cas. Somehow acknowledge Cas's presence. And that he just went and searched the world on a whim. How he always came for Dean, even when Dean didn't deserve it or was just using him. Just Dean _noticing_ him might be enough.

But Dean didn't. And eventually Castiel's patience grew thin, and he appeared behind Lenore, placing a hand on her head and smoking it to dust. Once the body collapsed on the ground, Dean and Sam looked up at him, their expressions demanding an explanation.

"We needed to move this along." The Winchesters spent a lot of time talking and not a lot of time doing. And Cas just didn't have the patience for it anymore. Dean gave him a look before he motioned his hands in a movement intended to express his thoughts. Castiel wasn't sure how that movement portrayed "well fine then, I guess we don't have much of a different option." But he could read the thoughts that Dean projected loudly, so he still got the gist. Dean spent a lot of time needing Castiel and not a lot of time thanking him. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'll search the town. Give me a moment." As upset as Castiel was earlier, and as annoyed as he was with getting seated as far from Dean as possible, he still was in a fairly tolerable mood. Mostly because Dean actually said something about how Cas was useful. Well, Castiel knew he was useful, and he wanted to be a lot more than just "useful" to Dean, but it was a start. After a few moments of stillness and a very odd gravitational pull, words broke Cas from his concentration.

"Cas we can still see you." Cas didn't meet Dean's eyes, because he wasn't exactly sure what was happening. He had an idea, but he was praying it wasn't the case.

"Yeah I'm still here."

"Okay, you don't have to wait on us..."

Cas nodded and looked around for a moment, avoiding the idea running through his head. Castiel shut his eyes, focusing all of his senses on dissipating, on fighting the strange gravity that was holding him to the booth seat. He pulled and pulled, but couldn't seem to lift himself off of the seat. His wings beat uselessly at the air, and Castiel eventually opened his eyes, after a vulgar comment from Dean.

"Something's wrong." Cas didn't look up, still shaking his head and not wanting to see the disappointment in Dean's face.

"You stuck?"

"Blocked." Dean looked over at Sam and Cas looked up, automatically following Dean's gaze. The intensity on Dean's face was enough to make Cas think he'd almost just seen Eve or something, so that's why he followed his own eyes to wherever Dean was looking. When Cas realized it was just Sam, Dean was just looking at Sam, he turned his gaze away again, although it lingered on Dean's face for a moment. "I'm powerless."

"You're joking." Dean cheekbones were exquisite.

"Something in this town is, uh, it's affecting me. So it's Eve." Dean was looking around credulously. Cas finally looked up again, finally gave himself the courage to see Dean's reaction. Dean didn't look at him at first, had his eyes trained on nothing.

"So wait, mom is making you limp?" Dean finally connected with him on the last word, and Castiel sat up a little straighter, trying to ignore the disgust in Dean's tone.

"Figuratively, yes." Cas had learned by now not to bother with Dean's expressions, just to try to cipher and reply as straight as possible. 

"How?"

"I don't know. But she is." Dean was so demanding, so expectant. Cas used to be flattered, Dean thinking that he was so powerful. But now that he wasn't omnipotent, Cas wasn't sure what Dean would think of him. To be quite honest, he was partially terrified.

"Well that's great, because without your power, you're basically a baby in a trenchcoat." 

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment, his mouth parted in a surprised oh, shaking his head in disbelief. A baby. In a trenchcoat. Cas turned his head to the window, staring outside for something to smite. Oh wait, he can't he's just an infant. That's right. Not only useless, but also annoying and in need of protection. Of course. Castiel folded his hands in his lap, his gaze shifting to nonchalant and uninterested. Dean could be a total dick.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Sam said quickly under his breath. Right, like Castiel wasn't going to hear that.

Dean cleared his throat and looked down, apparently either too good to apologize, or maybe he just truly wasn't sorry. Any sort of good mood Castiel was in had totally vanished. Entirely.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Castiel's perpetually bad mood was slightly heightened when he got paired up with Dean to go hunting. It was probably just because no one else felt like dealing with his sulkiness. Or maybe it was because Dean was the most aggressively protective, and they _all_ thought Cas was in need of "protection" now that he was powerless. Whatever the reason was, it still gave him time to walk alone with Dean, even if they couldn't talk about anything. Or well, more like didn't talk about anything.

Just lifting his feet in step with Dean, walking beside him down a sidewalk was exhilarating. And even if Dean shot him an annoyed look when he came up with an impromptu story, Dean was being a bit less of a dick than earlier. Maybe he was sorry.

As the doctor's assistant walked away, Dean's body rocked from side to side, something he always did when his eyes followed someone. Castiel had never known why, but he wasn't complaining now, because Dean's rocking tilted his body in to Castiel's, his shoulder brushing against Cas's chest. They were standing close before, but now they were practically touching. Dean didn't even flinch away when he brushed up against Cas again, when he was shifting his body weight to take a step forward. Dean shot ahead of him, but it wasn't maliciously and Cas just widened his step to catch up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Something comes out, shoot it."

"Our best guess, silver bullets."

"I'm fairly unpracticed with firearms." Dean had had his attention on Sam, but his focus finally turned to Castiel again. Dean looked at him, squinting slightly at the sun in his eyes, and glanced back at Sam, not really see him, just for the principle. 

"You know who whines?" Dean was looking at Cas again, and he drew his eyes down and back up, quick enough that it couldn't be considered sexual. Unless Dean was just being sly. "Babies."

Dean lifted his eyebrows suggestively, then tightened his mouth in a triumphant smirk and strode towards the house. Castiel followed him with his eyes, his mouth parted to protest, before realizing that could be considered "whining" too. Cas ended up just sighing in defeat, his gaze full of yearning as he watched the two brothers at the door. Once it was open, Sam had his had on the small of Dean's back, his hand large and encompassing the area. Dean just continued on, used to the casual touch. It just wasn't fair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"We need to find Eve now."

"Yeah, go. Me and Sam just need to make a milk run."

"We need your help here." _I need your help, Dean._

"Hold your water. We'll be back in a few." _You don't need me Cas. Just be patient._

"Dean. _Dean._ " Dean finally turned back to Cas, his face a bit annoyed.

"Millions of life are at stake here. Not just two. Stay focused." _I know this is about the parallels between those two boys and you and your brother. I know Sam means the world to you. You don't have to prove that to me over and over. This isn't about saving kids, you have to think about the mission. The mission, Dean._

"Are you kidding?" _He doesn't see what I mean. Dean, you have to accept you can't save everyone._

"There's a greater purpose here." _Abort Abort Wrong Word Choice. Although it is true, there is, and you don't see it. Sam blinds you, Dean. He always has_.

"You know what, I'm getting a little sick and tired of the greater purpose, okay? I think what I'd like to do right now is save a couple of kids. If you don't mind." _I'm choosing him. You can't stop me. I'm choosing Sam because that's what I do. Even if it's just out of spite, and it will hurt us all in the long run. I will choose Sam._

Castiel just stared at Dean, heard the words that were in between the lines too.

"We'll catch up."

Castiel just watched as Dean strode away. He rallied up the boys, and clapped Sam on the shoulder, _c'mon_. Sam rose out of his chair and followed behind the boys, ever obedient and not questioning Dean. Dean held open the door for them all, taking a moment to look at Castiel. Their eyes met with a crack, a silent conversation going in between them.

Cas's eyes were pleading, begging. _Don't leave Dean, I need you to stay. Prove to me that you trust me, Dean. Please, just this once. I know what I'm doing. Aren't I more than just some weapon? Aren't we friends? Dean, please. Just. Choose me._

Dean met back his gaze with an expression that intended to be apologetic, but mostly came out cold. _I choose Sam, Cas. I will **always** choose Sam._

And with that, Dean turned and closed the door behind them, following behind his brother and instantly reaching for him. Through the mottled glass doors Cas could still see Dean's hand land on Sam's waist. 

Castiel turned around, storming out of the back door in a raging fury that felt a lot more like pain than it felt like anger. Pain, pain of watching the symbolism. Watching Dean hold open the door, which might have well been the door to future, the door of opportunity, watched him hold it open for Sam, shoot Cas a look, and close it behind them. That solid sound of shutting was met with the sound of Castiel's heart shattering. This was it. Dean chose Sam over him.

Whatever thread of hope Castiel had been hanging onto was split now, frayed and broken. What was the point? Dean didn't love him. He'd thought Dean had, once, but now. Now it felt like it had all been a lie. So long ago, so distant. But since then, Dean solidified his heart. And Cas wasn't in it.

 


	65. Agnate (The Man Who Would Be King  06x20)

The wall in front of him was painted with an array of moonlight, slashes of silver agnate to the blinds that slitted across the single window. It was a familiar set of parallel streaks, ones that were painted on nearly every motel room wall he'd ever stayed at. He wasn't sure if he was the only one who noticed them, although he would bet Sam had as well, especially since Sam was normally the one who couldn't sleep. The fractions of light were oddly comforting though. It was a familiar sight, and one that reminded Dean of his life on the road. He didn't exactly need any reminders, but at least they gave him a constant, one thing that every room he slept in had. Some people had posters, pictures, colored designs. Not Dean. Dean had silver stripes of moonlight.

Dean lay facing the wall for a long time. His eyes never left the moonlight stripes, but he was only looking at them half the time. The rest of the hours he just stared forward, his expression blank as his thoughts swirled around and battered against the sides of his head. Flashes of what had been and what could've been, words and faces and the warmth of a casual touch. The accusations rang louder than nearly everything, the only exception being the haunting words of the angels.

_..........."Sorry, uh, you have me confused with the other angel, you know the one in the dirty trenchcoat who's in love with you?"_

_.....................................................................................the one in the dirty trenchcoat who's in love with you_

_...........................who's in love with you_

_..............................................................in love with you_

 

_........."I still believe that that's something worth fighting for. I just wanted you to understand that."_

_........................................................something worth fighting for_

 

_......................"And even now, now that you know how he feels about you?"_

_.............................................................................now that you know how he feels about you_

_....................................................how he feels about you_

_......................................................"He deserves better than you and he never should have fallen for a human, you petty, entitled piece of-"_

_................................. he never should have fallen for a human_

_..................................................................................... never should have fallen_

_.............................................never should have fallen_

_.........................................................................He deserves better than you_

_..................................................................deserves better than you_

 

It was killing Dean, thinking about all of those words. I mean, angels lied. They did. A lot. So there was a possibility that none of it was true. But somewhere deep in his core, Dean couldn't help but think it might be.

Finally, he sighed and turned his head slightly, lifting it off of the pillow.

"Sam?" The word came out as a mere whisper. There was silence for a few moments before the sheets rustled a little bit and Dean felt dry lips pressed up against the back of his neck. Dean let his head sink back in the pillow, gently squeezing Sam's hand. Sam had his arms around Dean, their fingers entwined and clasped together on one hand tucked up underneath Dean's chin. Dean's free hand was curled slightly, having been shoved under the pillow at one point. Sam had just scooted closer to him, curving his body to mimic Dean's, Sam's chest only brushing Dean's back when he breathed in. Their legs were still tangled together impossibly, ankles and feet and calves all wrapped around each other and pressed tightly together.

"Mmm," Sam hummed softly into the nape of Dean's neck, his lips still pressed there. Dean considered letting Sam sleep for another moment, but he decided he really did need to talk. It was rare, but he needed to.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean's voice was barely above a whisper, cracking slightly as his vocal chords warmed up. Sam must have had at least a little bit of brain left in his sleepy grogger because his hand tightened on Dean's and he lifted his head up, the soft tips of his long hair brushing against Dean's jawbone.

"Of course." Sam's voice was shot too, the early hour of day the cause.

Dean sighed and pulled their entwined hands out from under his chin, bringing them down to his chest. He pressed their hands tight against his sternum, reveling in how comforting it felt. Then he cleared his throat, bringing his other hand up to trace light symbols on Sam's other arm, the one that snaked through the slight space between Dean's waist and the bed, folding upwards to lay flat on the bed in front of Dean.

"It's about, uh, Castiel." Sam's hair brushed against his jaw again as Sam moved to lay his head back down, the half of the pillow behind Dean compressing. "Everyone's been saying things, and I don't know if they're true."

Sam's thumb rubbed up and down Dean's, gently comforting him and urging him to continue.

"First it was Balthazar, with that whole, 'angel who's in love with you' crap, then Cas had some weird wording when he explained the whole 'why we remember the titanic thing.' And then Rachel, she said something about 'never should have fallen for a human' or whatever. And they're all Cas's fratbuddies and they all keep saying the same thing, and. I don't know what to do."

Sam was silent for a moment or two, just letting Dean's low words settle in the air. The soft movement of his thumb didn't slow, even when he finally did speak.

"Dean, did you and Cas ever. Have something? Besides the Titanic thing. Like in actual reality." Sam spoke slowly, like he had to be cautious and tiptoe around the words.

Dean shut his eyes, his memory reeling back all the way to that first time they met, in Pontiac, Illinois, Castiel's blue eyes piercing, and Dean suddenly speechless. He remembered the fluttering feeling in his stomach, and how it had scared him enough to make him deny it entirely. Then the next time they met, when Dean's eyes accidentally got caught on the angel's lips, but he couldn't help that, the angel had been centimeters away from his face. Then the flashes of memory sped up, flipping through intense staring contests and moments with zero personal space. _I was getting to close to the humans in my charge. You._ And Castiel breaking his heart, then coming to save him, pinning him up against the wall and causing more sexual tension than Dean can remember ever having. Then finding Cas alive again, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Then his mind stuck on a particular memory, one he didn't think about very often. Dean opened his eyes again.

"I kissed him once. It was when you and I went separate ways, after the war horseman. I went on a hunt that week, then Cas came to me at the motel and asked for my help in catching Raphael. It was a pretty complicated plan, but Cas was basically expecting that he would die afterwards. So I took him out to get hooked up with a hooker, and it of course didn't go anywhere. Then we were outside and I couldn't stop laughing. Then one thing led to another, and I kissed him. We spent a day and a half together, just. Watching movies, not doing much. We didn't hook up or anything but uh. Yeah there was a thing there. And there were another couple of times since then that I almost did, and I was actually jealous when I saw him kiss Meg. So, yeah. I guess we had a thing."

Sam's comforting rubbing had stopped, although Dean couldn't remember what part of the story it stopped in.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam's words were careful and calculated, the only emotion showing through was a little bit of concern.

"I don't know, it felt like cheating somehow. I know we aren't officially anything. I guess. And even if we were, we had just broken up or whatever. But it still. I don't know. And it scared me a little, because it wasn't the only time I wanted to do that. I haven't really had a problem with it since Cas has been so caught up in this war, but. It's still there."

"Dean, if Cas really is workiing with Crowley, it's not your fault."

"Yes it is, Sam. Yes it is."

 

credit: [x](http://tearscorrode.tumblr.com/post/60187905224)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What is your point?"

"My point is, you're distracted. And that makes me nervous."

"I am holding up. My end."

"Ah yes," Crowley walked closer, the smell of monster blood penetrating Castiel's senses. "But is that all you're holding up?"

Crowley had thought he got the best news bit of the century when he found out the Winchester brothers were tangling up togetha in between the sheets. After all, it made them both more vulnerable, gave their weakness an even weaker edge. Plus love actually could be convenient as hell, if one managed to twist it backwards.

But then Crowley got wind of even _betta_ news. Which he hadn't thought was possible. Turns out, the _angel_ was in love with Dean. An angel in love with a human. And if that wasn't fantastic enough, Dean was already in a bizarre relationship. Adding that third player gave Crowley all the leverage in the world. Leverage against heaven's most powerful. Well that was something he neva though he'd have in his day.

Castiel's face when stonecold emotionless, but Crowley knew it was all just a big goeey turmoil inside. He stepped forward again, speaking low into Castiel's ear.

"See," he paused, drawing out the tension for a moment. "The stench of that Impala's all ova your ovacoat, angel."

Working with an angel was jolly fun, probably just because Crowley could call him a pet name that was actually him as well. Castiel couldn't even reject to being called angel.

"I thought we'd agreed. No more nights out with the boys. Although my nights out never included the backseat of an Impala."

"I spoke with Dean. Nothing more. I needed to know what they know."

"Bout what. Bout me, maybe? Cause I happen to have it on good authority that your two little pets are currently trying to _hunt me down_!"

Castiel's face was stone again.

"Forgive me. But I think you might have a little conflict of interest here."

That was the understatement of the century. Castiel was in so deep he couldn't even see the closest light anymore. That was the only downside to the whole love thing. On the occasion, it could get in the way, and it was mighty damn powerful. Crowley's only hope was that Dean would choose the moose over Castiel. If Dean turned against the angel, then the broken heart would be just enough fuel to tip Castiel over the edge. And with Dean's wrecking stupidity, Crowley was fairly sure it was bound to happen, some time or another.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was as obvious as pie on the Fourth of July. Dean was practically in love with the angel. Sam was takin it better than Bobby thought he would, which was a blessin in itself. Dean kept denying, insisting that there was no way Cas was working with Crowley. He was a loyal son of a bitch, you had to give him that. But the pain in his eyes everytime anyone even so much as _suggested_ that something was happening, it was like he was up on the torture rack all over again.

"You know he's our friend. And we're lying to him through our teeth."

"Dean-"

"So he burned the wrong bones. So Crowley tricked him."

"He's an angel." But Dean wasn't listenin to reason. Bobby knew that boy well enough to know how damn stubborn he could be. Downright fool actually. But it wasn't Bobby's place to correct him on his loyalty, just to try to reason with 'im a bit.

Sam was trying to reason too, handlin the whole thing better than Bobby was. And that was saying a lot, considering how obvious it was that Dean had feelings for the angel that he was still hidin. Bobby wasn't sure if Dean had even admitted them to himself yet, let alone out loud or to anyone else. But if Bobby could see it, Sam had seen it miles ago. And Sam just kept tryin to comfort Dean, tryin to say how he understands Dean's loyalty. Not blamin him for anything.

Although it hadn't gotten reaaalllly complicated yet. Dean and Cas were still all just eye-lookin and such, nothing really physical goin on. And if Dean was still denyin it to himself, it was a long ways out before the love triangle actually became a love triangle. Bobby had no idea what would happen. Dean and Sam were close as anythin, but they also had a very private relationship. It wasn't like they could go out on the street holdin hands or nothin. But if Dean was with Cas, he could have that to some sort of degree.

Cas bein an angel would make everything complicated, 'course, but a species divide was still more acceptable in society than brothers who slept in the same bed. Bobby had known them two boys their whole lives though, he knew a pure love when he saw one. It was the same soul, spilt inta two different bodies, and those bodies just happened to get born as brothers. It was inconvenient as hell, but it didn't change the way they loved each other.

The only thing that had a potential threat to blow up the relationship they had would be Dean's feelins for Cas. If Dean came to some realization that he loved the angel, shit was boung to get complicated. Bobby just hoped this whole souls thing was out of the way by the time that happened. And he hoped to hell that they were all wrong about this. Dean needed Cas, even if he din't love 'im. That much was clear.


	66. Mitigation (Let it Bleed  06x21)

"Dean," Sam reached forward and grabbed his brother's bicep. Dean was impossibly tense underneath his fingers.

"Sam, back off." The way Dean turned his head and said it made Sam freeze. It wasn't rough or violent, Dean was being very careful with Sam. Sam knew that Dean was in his demon mode right now, he could see flashes of fire in his eyes when Sam had walked in. But with Sam, Dean was holding it back, being deliberately oversweet, probably out of fear that he would snap on Sam next if he so much as raised his voice.

Sam looked down from Dean's pleading yet demanding gaze, pursing his lips together in defeat. He didn't know how to reach Dean when Dean was like this, and honestly Sam wasn't sure he wanted to try. Dean's expression of pain didn't falter, his face begging Sam to listen to him, to understand. To still love him when this was all over. To let him do this for Lisa and Ben.

"Lisa and Ben? Wherever they are, that's 100% on me. And if they are hurt?" Dean's eyes shifted and he looked away from Sam, unable to finish his own sentence. Sam understood, he did. This wasn't about how much Dean loved him, Sam knew a soul was capable of loving multiple people at once. But Lisa and Ben had been Dean's family, and Dean deserved to make sure they were safe. Dean's eyes were still cast down when he spoke next.

"I'll yell if I need you."

Sam heard that for what it was. Dean was asking him not to watch this, to leave him be and let him turn into that demon he had kept deep inside for so long. Sam didn't blame him, he had done the same. On the day he'd accepted Lucifer to use him as a vessel, Sam had had to drink a couple of gallons of demon blood. Dean had opened the trunk for him, turning to Sam and trying to keep his expression of his face. Sam knew Dean would have quite willingly placed a hand on Sam's back and fed him the demon blood if Sam had asked, but Sam couldn't bear for Dean to see this. _Do you mind not watching this?_ Dean had understood, had known that Sam didn't want him to think he was a monster. It was the same thing now, _I'll yell if I need you_. Dean's way of asking Sam to not watch this, to not think of him as a monster for going back to torturing. 

So Sam watched Dean walk back to his table, then sighed in defeat and turned on his heel, walking out the barn door. He had to let Dean do this, but he didn't have to let Dean do this alone. Sam knew Dean would take a long time to forgive himself for torturing again, if he ever forgave himself, and Sam had to do something about it. He had to call Castiel.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Why are you here?" Like it wasn't obvious. Dean walked past him, his shoulder tilting to the side to avoid touching Castiel. His boots eventually slowed to a stop, although Castiel dared not turn around yet.

"I had no idea Crowley would take Lisa and Ben."

"Yeah, right." Castiel stared forward until he couldn't take it any longer, turning around to face Dean and just greeted with the wide expanse of muscles across Dean's back.

"You don't believe me." Dean finally turned around with his next words, his mouth curled up in a half smirk that stabbed a wound just as deep as the words.

"I don't believe a word that's comin out of your mouth."

Castiel wasn't sure if it was possible, but if there was a chance it was, then Dean would be able to hear his heart shattering in two right now. More than two, his heart was breaking like a shot glass dropped on concrete. He looked over to the side, the smirk on Dean's face actually causing physical pain to his chest. Castiel fought the urge to bring his hand up and feel his chest, make sure that there wasn't a bag on concrete flattening his ribcage. By the time Castiel flicked his eyes back to Dean, Dean's smirk had faded and his expression had dropped. For a fleeting moment, Dean looked confused and shameful, like he hadn't thought it possible to hurt Cas. Dean looked surprised at himself, regretful, but then his mask covered his face again and his eyes went stone cold, uncaring. The brief glimpse of compassion wasn't enought to make Castiel feel any better.

"I thought you said we were like family." Castiel believed that, he honestly did. Dean was his family, and Sam too. But Dean didn't look like he included Castiel in the term "family" anymore. He hadn't been acting like it either.

Dean shook his head, looking off in the distance. It wasn't exactly a no, more like disbelief that Cas would bring it up, or perhaps just anger at the situation.

"Well I think that too." Now Dean nodded, slightly, like he did when he was upset and someone told him exactly what he thought he'd hear and very much didn't want to. "Shouldn't trust run both ways?"

"Cas, I just can't." Castiel stepped forward, slightly encouraged by the familiar pet name, but mostly driven by the pain in Dean's eyes, the emotion that showed he actually did care. So very much too, it looked like. 

Castiel wasn't sure how to explain this all to Dean. He needed Dean to understand, he just didn't think he could get him to. He brought his hands up as he moved closer, uselessly attempting to portray his emotions and his mitigation.

"I do everything you ask." Castiel walked a few more steps and stopped, now a couple of feet away from Dean, his eyes unable to leave the stricken green ones before him. Castiel's own eyes were starting to condensate, which was a rare occasion he still wasn't used to. Castiel didn't have much practice in stopping his "tears" when his body got like this. It was like he didn't get to chose how he reacted anymore. The lack of control would normally terrify him or send him into a rage, but the only time his eyes had leaked and his body started shaking was when he was around Dean. And Castiel always felt safe when he was around Dean, so he never really worried about his lack of control. Besides, Dean's eyes were watery themselves. This observation was causing him even more pain for some reason.

"I always come when you call." Cas's voice sounded shaky and weak, but he managed to get a bit of a grip on himself. "And I am your friend. Still, despite your. Lack of faith in me, and now your threats."

The threats had hurt a lot more than Cas had been expecting. For Dean to hate him was one thing, but for Dean to hate him enough to want to _end_ him, that was a thought Cas could hardly bare. Castiel was looking down, the lack of eye contact helping his eyes to dry up a little bit. Cas didn't see the broken look on Dean's face until he looked back up, although it was clear Dean was struggling to hide his emotions and shove them back down.

"I just saved you. Again. Has anyone but your closest kin ever done more for you?" Dean flittered his eyes back up, moisture pulling at the corners as he blinked rapidly, trying to contain it. He managed to lift his head and breath in, attempting to calm himself and keep his head. His gaze finally turned back to Cas, although it looked like it was painful to do. They were both fighting their emotions even more than they were fighting each other.

"All I ask is this one thing."

"Trust your plan to pop Purgatory?" Dean's voice was much steadier than Cas's, and much steadier than either of them suspected, based on Dean's surprise at his own words.

"I''ve earned that Dean." Dean just huffed and shook his head unbelievingly. Apparently Castiel hadn't earned that. It hurt, a lot, every time Cas opened his mouth to try to fix this, to try to make everything alright, Dean just took another swing, twisted the knife plunged in his heart even deeper.

"I came to tell you I will find Lisa and Ben. And I will bring them back." Dean just stared at Castiel. "Stand behind me. The one time I ask."

Cas's eyes were watering again, and the tears threatened to fall as Dean tilted his head and blinked, like he couldn't believe the audacity of Cas's words. Like it was the craziest thing in the world for Cas to ask his best friend for, the man he loved enough to fall from his family for, the man who he had dropped everything and become an entire new being for. 

"You're asking me to stand down?" Dean advanced on him, bringing their distance apart to about a foot now.

"Dean-"

"That's the same damn ransom note that Crowley handed me, you know that, right?" Cas was not doing much besides fighting tears at this point. "Well no thanks. I'll find them myself. In fact, why don't you go back to Crowley and tell him I said you can both kiss my ass."

Dean turned away from him again, which for once was a good thing, because one more word of condemnation and Cas wouldn't be able to hold back his emotions anymore. As he watched Dean lift his hand to his face, something he always did when he was stressed or upset, Castiel felt the last ping inside. The familiar motion reminded Cas just how real and actual this conversation was. Dean was here, and Dean didn't trust him, didn't want him anymore. It was over.

Castiel had to disappear, had to get out. The second he took off, the tears came rushing down, and they didn't stop for a very long time.

He may not have been dating Dean, but he somehow got the impression that he just got broken up with regardless.


	67. Petulant (The Man Who Knew Too Much  06x22)

"Sammy?" Dean could do nothing but stare at the beautiful, complacent face in front of him. He hadn't left the room in the past four hours, couldn't imagining leaving. Dean had insisted on carrying Sam in here himself, not letting Bobby help with the weight. Bobby protested, but gave up fairly soon. He grumbled something along the lines of "this always happening, stubborn son of a bitch" and Dean was flashed backwards for a moment, to lifting Sam off of a muddy road, Sam's head cradled in his elbow, Dean's arms wrapped around the body that suddenly felt so small, one hand still pressing insistently at the gaping knife wound in the small of Sam's back. The _lemme help, son_ 's from Bobby, the same ones that Bobby said again as Dean rushed to Sam's crumpled body in that alley, Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and his limbs limp. Bobby had given up trying to help after Dean threatened him, same as he had five years ago. 

So Dean had carried Sam into the panic room, stepping over the threshold with the same grief and pain he did everytime they put Sam in here. The parallel between the panic room and Lucifer's cage had been pointed out to Dean by some really bitchy mouthy demon he'd been exorcising, and he'd never forgiven himself for that. For locking Sam away just like Michael did. For being no better than some petulant bitchy angel who thought he knew best. 

He'd laid down Sam so carefully on the bed, shifting his legs into place and tucking a pillow under his head. Dean had taken care to brush Sam's hair out of his face with his fingers, tucking a few strands behind his ears that were long enough to not flop out to the side. Sam still hadn't moved then, even when Dean had leaned down to press a wet kiss to Sam's forehead. The kiss was wet from Dean's tears, which had been steadily streaming for the first hour he was in here. Dean had cupped Sam's perfect cheeks in his hands, thumbing over his cheekbones gently, occasionally leaning down to kiss Sam's face, his forehead or his cheek, the corners of his eyes and the fullness of his lips. Sam never responded, never so much as acknowledged that he knew Dean was there. 

After about an hour, Dean was out of tears and decided that Sam needed him in a strong mental state when he woke up. When, not if. If Dean was a wreck, how was he supposed to hold together Sam? So he toughened up and wiped his eyes, calming his breathing back to normal. Dean pulled a chair to Sam's side, sitting in it and picking up Sam's hand, holding it to his lips for a moment. Then Dean layed Sam's hand back down on the mattress, both of his hands still wrapped around it. Dean spent another hour like that, just studying Sam's face and holding his hand. 

Then Dean couldn't take _that_ anymore, and he stood, scooting the chair over to the side. Dean set out for the other side of the panic room, doubling back just before he hit the wall. Then again, walking the length from Sam's bed to the salt covered walls. Dean paced and paced, anxious and waiting and ridiculously worried. 

After a while of that, Dean's legs grew tired, which would also not help Sam or the fight that was coming up any. So Dean crossed the room to Sam's side, reaching out a hand to smooth over Sam's hair again. 

"Sammy? Darling, can you hear me?"

Nothing. Dean sighed and leaned down, closing his eyes to press a soft kiss to Sam's mouth. Still nothing. 

Dean was hardly expecting a response by now, just hoping. The only way he knew Sam was even alive was the quiet thumming of his pulse. It was so faint Dean almost missed it, and nearly had a heart attack every time he checked for it.

Now Dean pulled the chair up to the head of Sam's bed, letting his eyes rest on Sam's soft features. The features that had been so harsh and prominent when he had no soul, then turned sweet and caring when he was Sam again. And now, sleeping, Sam looked like a child again, all of the lines gone from his face. 

Dean had his chin resting in his hands, but it had been four hours now and he was starting to get even more worried.

"Sammy?" Dean lowered his hands from his face, clasping them together desperately in his lap. "C'mon, snap out of it."

There was no response from his comatose brother. Dean stood again, making his way over to the table on the side of the room. Dean couldn't stand the silence anymore, he didn't even have Sam's heavy sleep breathing to listen to. Dean turned on the radio, soft music spilling out into the room. 

Dean took to pacing again, his arms crossed over his chest. He was pacing when Bobby knocked on the panic door, before slowly creaking it open. Dean didn't know what Bobby was expecting Dean to be doing, as cautious as he was to open the door, but Dean appreciated the privacy anyways.

"Anything?" Bobby asked, stepping in the room and over to Dean. Dean looked at him for a moment, but his eyes still drifted back to Sam.

"Can't just sit here Bobby, I've got to help him." Dean was surprised he'd lasted _this_ long.

"Dean-"

"Dreamscape his noggin, _something_." Dean kept pacing, his circle uninterrupted by their conversation.

"You know what Cas did. The damn inside your brother's head is gone. And all hell's spillin loose. We don't know what's goin on inside-"

"I don't care, we've got to do _something_."

"And we will. But right now, we've got sixteen hours til they pop Purgatory. I'm down one man, I can't afford to be down two."

"And how's that goin, huh? We've got no line on Crowley, we've got no line on Cas, Balthazar's MIA, I mean, all we've got (all I've got) is Sam, going through whatever the hell this is!"

"You know. I've heard this speech before. It was five years ago, and you were standin over your brother's dead body. Dead, Dean. And I said to you, 'Dean, snap out of it, you're just sittin here and the world's comin to an end.' And you know what you said, Dean? You stood up and nearly screamed in my face, you said 'Then let it end.' I'm not gonna let you make the same mistake twice, son. You're comin with me if I have to drag you out of here by your toes. Sam's not gonna love you any less if you aren't here when he wakes up. And don't you see it Dean? Don't you get it? This is exactly what Cas wants. For you to fall to pieces."

Dean just looked up at Bobby. He had fallen to pieces. The other half of his soul was laying on a mattress in the panic room, unable to respond to anything and barely even breathing. How could Dean be not in pieces when the biggest piece of him was comatose next to him?

"Just try an think of what Sam would want." Sam loved him, and Sam would want him to go save the world. Because Sam was a self-sacrificing bastard that always ended up saving the world. Dean knew this, he had known it all along. So he stepped forward, taking the glass of whiskey from Bobby.

"Find Cas, Bobby. Find him now." Bobby nodded, probably too afraid to speak. Dean knew he wasn't being fair to Bobby, but this was Sam they were talking about. Sam.

The Rolling Stones played in the background, and Dean wondered for a moment if Sam could hear it, wherever he was. Maybe they were listening to the same drawn out words of Richard and Jagger.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The seizure took Dean by surprise, and terrified the living daylights out of him. One moment, Sam was the normal, quiet, calm self off in dream world, then he was suddenly thrashing about on the mattress, flailing his arms and whipping his head from side to side, quick enough to look painful. His back arched off the bed and he made a low, pained sound, groaning and practically whimpering.

" _Sammy?_ " Dean rushed forward, setting his glass on the table and lunging forward.

"SAM!" Dean placed his hands on Sam's chest, holding him down, trying to get him to calm down, or wake up. Do something besides thrash around like he was getting murdered or detoxed or something. Sam's body responded to Dean's hands, arching up into his touch once before it threw itself back down on the mattress, his head rolling to the side. Sam suddenly stilled under Dean's hands, falling back into the same quiet stillness of before.

Dean stared at him, terrified. He couldn't make his hands leave Sam's chest, for fear he'd start up seizing again. Oh no, no no no no no. This was not okay. Dean could handle it when he told himself that Sam was fine, going to be fine, he wasn't getting hurt, wasn't in any pain, just lying there, comatose. But now, now everything had changed. Sam was clearly going through hell, and whatever it was, it was intense enough that it affected his entire body, not just his mind. 

Dean wasn't going to cry, he wasn't. He let out a whimper as he watched Sam's face, calm and sleeping again. 

"Sammy? Baby, you okay? Sam?" No response. Dean hesitantly lifted his hands from Sam's chest, but Sam stayed still. Dean wiped down his face with one hand, the way he always did when he was about to fall apart.

"Keep it together man, gotta keep it together. For Sam, he needs you now." Dean mumbled to himself as he turned away from the bed for just a moment long enough to grab his whiskey. Then he pulled up a chair again, sitting close enough to Sam that he could jump out of his chair and calm him down again if he needed to, but not close enough that his shaking hand would spill whiskey on Sam as Dean slowly raised the glass to his lips.

This was going to be another long hour.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dean was reminiscing and watching Sam, cradling his whiskey, when Bobby knocked again and opened the door, announcing his arrival with a 

"Look what the cat dragged in." Dean stood, recognizing Balthazar in the doorway.

"Well at least you muttfish finally got the angel-proofing right. How's Sleeping Beauty?"

Dean looked down at Sam, at his flowing silken hair, the slightly parted lips, and the perfect curve of his jaw, where Dean used to run his fingers along, watching Sam as he slept, internally thinking just how true that nickname was before he looked back up at Balthazar.

"You didn't steal any kisses, I trust." Dean wasn't going to respond to that. Bastard.

"The hell took you so long?" Dean didn't care if Balthazar got offended, Dean was kind of pissed and had every right to be too. And not just about the stealing kisses thing. Although that was low.

Balthazar explained though, and gave them the address before he disappeared again. Dean was grateful for the address, he was, but the moment Balthazar left, Dean realized what this would mean. He turned his head, looking back at Sam's still body. They'd have to leave him here, have to leave him on his own.

Dean stood over Sam as Bobby packed them up. Dean felt a little guilty for not helping at all with supplies, but he was still worried about Sam having another seizure soon. He was in the process of smoothing Sam's hair under his fingertips when Bobby's voice brought him back to the present time.

"Time's up, Dean." Dean lifted his hand away and put it by his side. His eyes didn't leave Sam though, they couldn't.

"Just a second." Dean waited for Bobby to leave the room, still didn't look up, just leaned down and kind of half-crouched, bringing his face over Sam's. Dean held up the slip of paper, opening up his mouth to talk to his brother. 

Dean had been talking earlier too, thinking that maybe Sam would wake up if he heard Dean's voice. So Dean had spent one of his hours in here rambling up a storm, telling stories about Sam, about things that happened when Sam was too little too remember. Or things about Sam that Dean had never told him, like how he had nearly drove the Impala off of a cliff when Sam had died. How he'd gotten in the car with just that intention, before he'd passed a crossroads and suddenly gotten an idea. Dean told Sam so many things, little things that really didn't matter. But none of it had worked, and Dean had started tearing up again after a while, so he stopped. But now he spoke again, praying to whatever good there was left in this world that Sam would hear him.

"Alright, this is where we're gonna be Sam." Dean held the paper up, fighting back another wave of emotions.

"You get your lazy ass out of bed and come meet us." It was all affectionate, said a lot more for Dean's sake than Sam's. Sam seemed to handle emotions just fine, and Dean did too, when it wasn't about Sam. But as soon as his too tall, nerdy little brother came into the equation, Dean could't handle himself.

"Sammy, please." Dean looked at him for another moment, choking down the urge to just grab onto Sam's jacket and bawl, never letting go. Instead, he stood, walking around Sam's head to place the slip of paper down on the mattress next to Sam's head. Dean placed a gun on top of the paper, holding it down and also sending the message that Sam should come ready for battle. If he came. When he came.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Why is this so important to you?"

"You know me. You know why."

It was a single unspoken word between them, one they both knew. It was the single word that was the reason that Hell Sam was in hell in the first place. The single word that was the Sam's entire world.

 _Dean_.

"I'm not leaving my brother alone out there."

The Sam from the pit just nodded. He knew. Even then, even in Lucifer's pit, Sam always knew. Knew Dean was his everything. Sam knew that from the beginning. Hell Sam was putting up an interesting argument, trying to appeal to a side of Sam that just really didn't matter any more. "Stay here. Go find that bartender. Go find Jess."

But both of them knew that Jess wasn't Sam's purpose anymore. Jess wasn't something that Sam wanted for himself, not anymore. Sam would never be happy without Dean, and that was why. Sam knew it would be hard, but he had to. Dean had done it for him, Dean had gone to hell for him and Dean remembered every second of it. It was the least Sam could do for Dean.

And Sam may not be strong enough, but Dean would help him. Dean was always there. Sam was going to be strong enough for Dean. Leaving Dean out there alone wasn't even an option on the table.

Hell Sam was understanding, and moved forward slowly. Sam's guard picked up higher as Hell Sam lifted the knife, but he just turned the handle around to Sam.

"I'm not gonna fight you. We both know you loved him enough to do this to both of us. And I never blamed him, Sam. And I know how much you love him, I do. But this is your last chance." 

Sam looked at the knife, breathing in and trying to find the courage. But he put his gun down, Dean's face clear and imprinted in his mind. Sam reached for the handle, taking it gently from Hell Sam's torn and bloodied hands.

"Good luck. You're gonna need it." It was honest, sincere. Not at all cutting or rude, just trying to help Sam out. Trying to warn him. Giving him time to walk away from this. But he wouldn't. They knew that.

Sam lunged forward and drove the knife into Hell Sam's stomach.

The white light started flooding out, and Sam attempted to brace himself. The last time he'd been memory-smacked, he'd gotten a flood of horrible horrible things. He finally knew how everything in his soulless months had gone down, finally knew the entire story behind the time he'd slept with Dean during that time. And as much as that killed him, there were far worse memories, ones Sam didn't even want to think about.

But nothing that happened while he was soulless compared to the sticky wet red memories pummeling into him now.

Sam was fairly sure he wasn't going to make it out of this.

"Deeaann!" Sam screamed, everything fading to black.

The blackness surrounded him, but it felt familiar somehow, like he'd seen it a thousand times. Then Sam realized he had, it was the blackness of the back of his eyelids. Sam slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he adjusted to the dim lighting, the swirling shadow of the fan above him. Sam had never been so relieved to be in the panic room.

He lifted his hand carefully, bringing his elbow up to haul him higher off the mattress. Sam turned his head, taking in the panic room and the sudden realization that he was alone. Dean wasn't here. 

Sam fought back the tears that were already cornering the tips of his eyes. He had needed Dean to be here right now, but Sam was sure Dean had a good reason not to be. Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, his arm swinging out and knocking something cold. He drew his arm back like he'd been electrocuted, trembling slightly. He was extremely over-sensitive and jumpy. It took Sam a few seconds longer than it should have to realize the cold had been the gun laying by the pillow. Sam reached forward and picked it up, wincing at the slight bite of the chilled metal. There was a slip of paper under the gun, and Sam nearly let out his tears in a cry of relief.

Sam sat the gun down on the mattress next to him, gingerly picking up the slip of paper. It was scrawled in Dean's familiar all-caps handwriting, and Sam smiled before he even read the words.

 _Sammy_ was scrawled on the outside of the single fold of the paper. Sam read the word in Dean's voice, in the perfect way he said "Sammy." Sam slipped his finger inside and unfolded the paper, reading the rest in Dean's gruff voice too.

_221 Piermont ave_  
 _Bootback, Kansas_

That part of the note wasn't in Dean's handwriting, it was one Sam didn't recognize. However, the words scrawled at the bottom of the paper were from Dean's hand.

_I need you Sammy._

It was how Dean said I love you, and Sam had never seen it written down for him. The tears he'd been holding back this whole time finally started to gather and fall. Sam didn't bother wiping at his eyes, he just stood up, wobbling a bit and having to steady himself before he managed to make it out of the panic room, gun in hand. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge. But we were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you, if I mean anything to you...Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben. And now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too. You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all."

Castiel didn't look at him at first, but he finally lifted his eyes to Dean's.

"You're just saying that because I won. Because you're afraid. I was your second choice Dean, or worse. How many people have you put in front of me? I have _never_ been good enough for you. You don't love me. You never have. You're not my family, Dean. I have no family."

TO BE CONTINUEDDD YAYYY...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annddd there is a tumblr blog where you can follow and get the updates of Stumbling on your dashboard, as well as videos and gifs and pictures and edits and yay! xx
> 
> http://flybynightgirl.tumblr.com/


	68. Altruist (Meet the New Boss  07x01)

"Stop. What's the point if you don't mean it?" Castiel looked directly at Dean. "You fear me. Not love, not respect. Just fear."

They all heard it, loud and clear. _Not love_. Dean felt a pang of guilt. Well, more like a dumptruck to the face load of guilt. This was his fault. His fault, for not loving Cas like Cas deserved. If Dean had never started anything between them in the first place, maybe this never would've happened. Dean had been the one to kiss Cas, had been the one to call on him, tell him how much he needed him. And then Dean had dumped him on his ass, left him to his own to fight a war. Dean had latched himself on to Sam, had called Castiel only if he needed help with his brother. That had to hurt more than everything. And now, now Cas had jumped off the deep end. Dean had tried to come back, tried to get Cas to understand that Dean did care about him. _We were family, once._ But it had been too little, much too late. And now Cas tried to force Dean to love him, force him to worship him. 

But inside, it still hadn't been enough. Cas wanted Dean's real love, and that wasn't something Dean knew how to give him. Dean hadn't ever analyzed the way he felt about Cas, not within the past year, and now wasn't exactly the time.

"Cas," Sam stepped forward, his signature puppy-dog-make-you-do-anything face on. Castiel broke his eyes away from Dean, his words icy and sharp.

"Sam, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back." Sam's face twisted with surprise, and Dean heard the hidden meaning in that. Sam had, indeed, literally stabbed Castiel in the back. But he'd also loved Dean, taken Dean from Cas during the one time that they had been starting something. Sam had waltzed back into Dean's life, snatched him from the angel's grip, and still insisted that Cas help them and remain their friend.

"Get up."

"Cas, c'mon, this is not you." Dean had to talk him off that ledge. Dean knew he took Cas for granted, but he needed him nonetheless. Cas was more than his altruist, Cas was his friend.

"The Castiel you knew is gone."

"So what then? Kill us?"

"What a brave little ant you are. You know you're powerless. You wouldn't dare move against me again, that would be pointless. So I have no need to kill you. Not now. Besides, once you were my favorite pets, before you turned and bit me."

"Who are you?"

"I'm god. And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down. Not doing so well, are you Sam?"

Dean turned his look of shock/pure terror to his brother in an instant, his brow furrowing up with worry. Sam looked at Dean for a moment before leveling Castiel with his gaze.

"I'm fine." Sam nodded, like he was convincing himself instead of them. "I'm fine."

Dean didn't even bother pretending to believe Sam on this one.

"You said you would fix him, you promised!"

"If, you stood down, which you hardly did. Be thankful for my mercy. I could've cast you back in the pit."

Dean had seen possession before, he'd seen people go crazy. Dean could name of nine kinds of insane, had dealt with everything under the goddamn sun, and even more by the light of the moon. He knew that Cas didn't become this...thing...just inside a few minutes. Something had to be affecting him. You didn't just turn this evil in a split second. This couldn't be Cas. It couldn't.

"Cas, c'mon, this is nuts. You can turn this around, please!"

"I hope for your sake, this is the last you see me."

When Cas disappeared, Dean just stood in shock. Everything that just happened hadn't entirely absorbed. Right now, the only facts Dean could really tally were, everyone was alive, Cas was gone, Sam was not okay-Sam.

Dean turned to look over at his brother, eyes instantly catching the blood dripping out of his nose. Sam fell over before Dean could reach him, his hand smashing glass and making a disgustingly gruesome sound. 

Dean was at his side in seconds, wrapping an arm around Sam's chest and lifting him slightly, not enough to jar him, just enough to get his body weight off of the hand that was smushed in glass. 

"Sam? Sammy? It's me, Dean, baby I'm right here. Sammy? C'mon, c'mon, Sam. It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna go fix you up, you're gonna be fine. Sam? Sam!"

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dean was getting too old for this. And Sam was way too big for this. But Dean would never complain out loud, not to Bobby and especially not to Sam. Tease him, maybe. But he wouldn't let on how much it actually strained his back to lift Sam up, bridestyle, and carry him to Bobby's couch. Sam was frikin tall anyways, but add on all that muscle? And the hair. The hair made him heavy too.

But Dean managed to make it to Bobby's couch without too much difficulty, awkwardly kneeling in front of it to place Sam down on the cushions. Sam had passed out cold, hopefully just sleeping, in the car ride home, curled up on the backseat and covered with Dean's jacket. Dean also didn't complain about the cold either, Sam needed two jackets more than Dean needed one. When they'd gotten to Bobby's, Dean couldn't stand to wake Sam, he never got enough sleep anyways, so he'd ended up carrying him in. 

As soon as Dean finished positioning Sam on the couch, he removed his hands and began to stand. The second his touch left his brother, Sam groaned quietly and shifted, cracking open his eyes. Dean knelt back down, pressing a hand to Sam's forehead. He was warmer than he should be.

"Shh, Sam, it's alright. I'm here." Sam opened his eyes more, groggily looking up at Dean. He lifted his hand to grab Dean's arm, and the moment he made contact with Dean's skin, Sam hissed and pulled his hand back. Dean reached out and carefully took Sam's wrist, turning his hand over for inspection. The gash was pretty deep, and still bleeding badly too.

Dean leaned forward and kissed the tip of Sam's index finger, rubbing small circles into Sam's wrist with his thumb. The spot were Sam had gone to grab him felt wet and cold, from Sam's blood probably. Dean could clean himself up later, he needed to take care of Sam right now.

"Hey, I'm gonna stitch that hand up for you, okay?" Dean's voice was a soothing as he could make it. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting with pain as he nodded. Dean reached down and placed a lingering kiss on Sam's forehead, his hand gently cradling the side of Sam's head. 

The medical kit wasn't too far away, thank goodness, just over in the kitchen. Dean hurried as quickly as he could, hating every second he wasn't by Sam's side. He found the kit eventually, stuffed in a cabinet with a tea kettle and a pot. Dean closed the cabinet with his foot and nearly sprinted back to the couch, medical kit in hand. 

Sam's body was as tense as a taut wire, but he visibly relaxed a bit once he saw Dean. His eyes were barely open, and looked haunted, but at least he was semi-conscious. 

"Dean," Sam croaked out, lifting his uninjured hand up in an effort to reach him. 

"Shhh, Sammy, it's okay. Let's stich you up now, alright?" Dean dragged a chair over to the side of the couch, moving it so close his legs barely fit in front of it, smashed up between the couch cushions and the wood of the chair. Dean opened up the kit and rummaged until he found string and a needle. He'd need pretty thick string, hand wounds were bitches to heal. Plus it was stupidly deep. Dean's hands were shaking, but he managed to still string the needle without too much effort. He had taught himself over the years how important it was to be able to string a needle, no matter how distressed or shaking you were. Sam's health came above everything.

Needle ready, Dean just needed Sam in a position he could stitch him up in. He placed the needle between his teeth, mumbling encouragement to Sam around the cold metal. Dean slipped his hands under Sam's shoulders and head, slowly lifting Sam and swiveling him around at the same time. He knew Sam needed sleep, but that hand needed care even more. So Dean propped Sam up against the back of the couch, gently placing Sam's legs on either side of his. Dean would love to have let Sam lay on him while he stitched him up, but the position of the wound just wouldn't allow it. Sam had to be in a sitting position, facing Dean. 

Dean stroked Sam's hair back, tucking it behind his ears. Sam closed his eyes and leaned into Dean's hand, already half asleep. Sam lulled his head to the side, leaning forward and onto Dean. Sam lay his head on Dean's shoulder, his forehead against the muscle and the wisps of hair tickling Dean neck. Sam's uninjured head clung to Dean's bicep, but Dean didn't mind the future bruises. With Sam now folded into him, Dean turned his head to the side, picking up Sam's bleeding hand. 

Dean pulled the needle from between his teeth, carefully sliding it into the skin next to Sam's cut. Sam hissed and squeezed Dean's bicep tighter. Dean didn't pause, relentlessly pushing the needle through the damaged skin and to the other side, tilting the angle up and pulling the string tight. A high pitched whimper escaped Sam's lips, and Dean felt horrible, he did. But he went on stitching, never once pausing enough to let Sam stop him. 

By the time he finished the stitches, Dean could barely feel his arm anymore, and purple Sam-shaped welts were starting to form. Dean twisted his body slightly and reached behind him, fingers closing around the neck of a bottle. Dean spun off the cap with his teeth and thumb, only having one hand available, with the other still holding onto Sam's stitched up one. Sam tensed up in preparation for the pain, but couldn't stifle a broken sound as Dean poured the alcohol over his hand. 

Finally finished, and soaked with a mixture of tears, bruises, blood, and alcohol, Dean wrapped a bandage around Sam's hand, gently kissing his hand, right next to the stitches, first. Sam clenched and unclenched his fingers to check that the wrap wasn't too tight. Satisfied with his work, Dean put Sam's hand back in his lap, reaching up for Sam's head now instead. Dean had already cleaned the blood off of Sam's face in the car, so it was just a mental evaluation now. 

Sam held his head like a rag doll, letting Dean's hands cup his jawline and hold him up. Dean pressed a few kisses to Sam's tears and one to his lips before he slid Sam's head onto the crook of his elbow. Dean lifted Sam's legs back onto the couch as he slowly rotated him again, laying him back down to sleep on the cushions.

Sam's eyes closed as soon as he hit the pillow.

"I'll be outside if you need me, Sammy. If you need anything." Dean wasn't expecting Sam to be awake, much less coherent, for quite some time. Dean would come check on him at sundown, unless he got a bad feeling before then. Dean could normally sense when Sam needed him, he just had a feeling in his gut. It had saved them enough times for Dean to trust it, so he felt okay with leaving Sam unguarded while he slept. Besides, this was Bobby's house. This was the closest thing they had to a home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Dean?"

For someone who was pissed as hell and extremely emotional, Dean turned around embarrassingly fast.

"What, you need somethin else?" Cas was still sitting propped up, his head turned up to Dean with the most puppy-dogish face he could possibly have while there were bloody chunks of skin peeling off of his face.

"No. I feel regret. About you, and what I did to Sam." _(What I did to you by hurting Sam.)_ And _about you_. Dean didn't know what that meant, but he didn't focus on it. He was afraid of what he'd find as an answer. And what that would mean for him. Dean heard the word _feel_ in there too. For just a moment, he was taken back, and remembered a time when that was all Dean had wanted. Cas to feel. Back when Dean was fresh out of hell, with the new gravity of an angel intriguing him and swaying his every step. When after Sam jumpstarted the apocalypse, how Cas had finally "felt" and it had been the best week Dean could remember with his angel. Who wasn't even an angel anymore. Who wasn't _his_ anymore.

"Yeah well you should." Dean said instead. And he meant it. Castiel should regret screwing up his life, screwing with his brother. Sam almost died, could have died. And Castiel did nothing to help, he was off being busy slaughtering humanity.

"If there was time, if I was strong enough, I'd fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die." Dean had been busying himself with pushing carts aimlessly, organizing a space that didn't exactly need organizing right now. But he did stumble on the word "die," turning his attention to Cas again.

Dean almost spilled it all, right there.

_You're not going to die Cas. You can't die. I need you. You broke my heart. In that moment, in this room, when you looked me in the eyes and said I wasn't your family. I meant nothing to you. My entire life I've felt like nothing, nothing to everyone. Sam didn't need me, he left. A couple of times. Dad didn't need me. A reaper told me once that the world would go on without me. No need for Dean, right? Then you came along, and I almost felt like I had a purpose. Like I was needed. You told me I was special, I was better than the rest. That I deserved to be saved. That I deserved you. You loved me Cas, an Angel of the Lord. At least, I thought you did. You were the only one left who hadn't ditched me. You were my last hope. And you left, just like every other godforsaken good thing in my life._

But he didn't. 

"Okay."

was all that came out instead.

Castiel turned his head in pain for a moment, his scarred face scrunching up as he gathered himself. Finally Dean heard Cas's voice again, struggling to stay put together.

"Is it working?" Castiel's voice was uncharacteristically hopeful.

Dean healed quickly. But not that quickly.

"Does it make you feel better?" It was cold. But so was the crack in Dean's heart. And the worry in Dean's mind for his brother.

"No." They both just looked at each other for a moment. "You?"

"Not a bit." Dean had turned his head before he managed to see the agony and heartbreak rip across the angel's face. It was a good thing he didn't, for he might have done something stupid. Like change his answer. Or tell Cas everything.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean was watching Cas, not letting himself think that this was the end for him. Dean wasn't thinking at all actually, just in soldier mode, standing guard. Bobby was a little ways into the incantation before Castiel started to collapse, and Dean lept forward, pulling Cas's shaking body up with firm hands. Castiel stood straight again, like he didn't even know he had almost just hit his head on the pavement.

The thought of Cas being that weak shook Dean up a little, and some thoughts seeped into his barriers as he backed up to his spot beside Bobby. Except maybe a little closer to Cas than before, just in case he fell again. Dean looked at Bobby for help, frantic for a moment, but Bobby didn't see him. Which was probably a good thing. Dean stood, his hands itching and waiting to catch Cas again. 

In case Cas fell.

But he'd already fallen. So. So many times.

Cas fell into hell, to raise Dean from perditiion. Cas fell for Dean, _"I was getting to close to the humans in my charge. You."_ Cas fell from heaven, rejected and hunted by angels. Cas fell into despair with the loss of his father. Cas fell for Dean again, after he'd been re-angelified. Cas fell from sanity, going on a craze-charged war to do what he thought Dean would want. Cas fell into corruption. And now here he was again, stumbling. Stumbling his way through, trying not to fall. And it was all Dean's fault, wasn't it? Before Cas had met Dean, he'd been fine. Boring, and the stick-up-the-ass type, but at least he hadn't fallen. Look at what you did to him, Dean. Look how you break everything you touch. Even an angel. You broke an angel.

Castiel turned around, and Dean couldn't manage to keep the worry and hope off of his face now. He felt raw, exposed, but this was Cas they were talking about. Cas felt like he was standing in front of Dean, even though Dean knew it was some sort of God instead of his angel. But that didn't stop the hope.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean's entire body felt that, like a jolt to the soul. Dean didn't hear the power behind the words, the honesty. He felt it in his bones. For the first time, someone apologized for leaving Dean. Someone regretted it. And wasn't afraid to say it. Dean's face softened with recognition. Cas did still love him. Cas really did love him.

Then the scarred face was gone again, facing the bloody wall. Which was now crumbling into pieces, a hole emerging. Light shot out of Cas, and Dean shielded his eyes for just a moment. Some of those lights that randomly emitted at times were dangerous as hell. (Although Dean had seen Zachariah's grace and thought nothing of it but shit Dean didn't think about that didn't want to know what it meant) But Dean couldn't keep his eyes off of Cas for long, and his gaze stayed on the angel's back. So he saw the signs of the collapse right before Cas was on the ground.

Dean flicked a glance over to Bobby, and they both rushed forward.

"Cas?!" Dean's voice was definitely not panicking. Dean was definitely not panicking.

Dean latched onto the familiar trenchcoat, turning Castiel onto his back. There were no signs of life, no signs of Cas. Because this actually _was_ Cas now, not some mutant thing. This was the angel who had taught him faith, the angel who had saved him and weasled his way into Dean's heart.

Dean looked over at Bobby, needing someone to tell him it was going to be okay. Bobby said nothing. Dean swallowed down his disappointment, turning his gaze back to the bloody face below him.

"He's cold." That wasn't what Dean had wanted to hear. His Cas was never cold.

"Is he breathin?" Dean was checking down Cas's body, seeing if there was anything he could do to help, any wound to stitch up. He placed a hand in front of Cas's mouth, not feeling the puff of air he was longing too.

"No."

"Maybe angels don't need to breathe." He sounded ridiculously hopeful even to himself.

"He's gone, Dean."

Dean just stared for a moment. Let that sink in. Let it all sink in. Looked at Cas's beautiful, perfect face, marred by the marks of his final days of ruin. Then Dean couldn't do it anymore, couldn't see Cas like that.

"Dammit." Dean stood, looking up. Just like he used to when he needed help. But the person he always looked up for was now laying on the ground at his feet. Dead.

"Cas, you _child_. Why didn't you listen to me?" The words were gruff and angry, Dean knew. Accusatory. But Dean had every right, Cas had gone and done this to himself. To Dean.

It took a couple of seconds for him to register that Cas's eyes were open. And his skin was clean again. Smooth.

"Cas?!" Dean was on the ground again, didn't even know how he'd gotten there so quickly, didn't even care.

Dean put a hand on Cas's chest, another on his arm.

"Hey, hey!" Cas looked around, looked up at Dean. Bobby was here now, grabbing Cas's other arm and pulling him up to sit. Dean almost leaned forward and kissed Cas right then and there. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it.

"That was unpleasant." That was Cas. 100% Cas. No souls, no god. Just Castiel.

Dean and Bobby hauled Cas all the way to his feet, Dean grunting out some word of encouragement and Cas. Once Cas was standing, Bobby stepped back, just like a normal person would. But didn't still wasn't sure this was real, and the pain he had felt in the ten seconds he had thought Cas was dead was sharp enough in his memory to make him hesitant to let go. Dean's hand lingered on Cas's arm, touching him, needing to touch him.

"I'm alive." Dean still didn't move his hand yet, although it had slid down Cas's arm a bit.

"Looks like."

"I'm astonished. Thank you. Both of you." Castiel was looking at Dean, and Dean nodded, taking his hand back, although he still wasn't quite believing this was happening.

"We were mostly just tryin to save the world." Cas bowed his head.

"I'm ashamed. I really overreached." 

It was such a normal thing to say, such a Cas thing to say, Dean almost leaned forward and kissed him. Again. With the almost. Instead, he smiled affectionately.

"You think?" 

"I'll find some way to redeem myself to you." Cas's eyes lifted to meet Dean's, and sparks flew, like they were back in Pontiac, Illinois again. Dean suddenly became very aware of how far Cas was from him, suddenly hypersensitive to the slight rise and fall of Cas's chest.

"Alright, well, one thing at a time. C'mon, let's get you out of here. C'mon." Dean couldn't do this right now, he would probably do something stupid. Besides, his insides were already fried and mushed up with emotions and pain and all sorts of lovely things to sort through later at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Dean grabbed Cas's arm again, helping lead him forwards. Cas stopped after a couple of steps, reaching out to grab the back of Dean's jacket like a child. Dean turned, facing the angel with a question on his face.

"I mean it Dean." Castiel looked so sincere, it was going to break Dean's heart. It was like the only thing that mattered in this moment, in any moment ever, was for Dean to understand how much Cas wanted to redeem himself to Dean.

"Okay." Dean nodded. "Alright. Let's go find Sam, okay?" 

Dean was not anticipating suddenly being thrown forwards. He turned around, curiously looking at Cas, although there was no anger behind his gaze.

" _You need to run now._ " Dean wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. "I can't hold them back!"

"Hold who back?" Worry. worry worry worry. Cas looked like he was convulsing.

"They held on inside me." Concern. concern concern concern.

"Deaann, they're so strong." Dean wasn't even registering everything that was happening. He heard Bobby say his name next to him, didn't, wouldn't, couldn't turn his gaze from Cas.

"LEVIATHAN!" Dean just stood, too shocked to so much as move. "I CAN'T FIGHT THEM. RUUUNNN."

Cas's body suddenly convulsing again finally brought Dean into the present. He turned Bobby towards the door, pushing him forwards.

"Go, go find Sam." Dean couldn't go. He couldn't leave Cas like this. No matter what happened, Dean wouldn't leave the angel's side. (Even though he was still thinking of Sam. Sammy was like a constant stream in his mind though, he never quite left. That's why he sent Bobby after him.)

But Dean certainly wasn't expecting it when Cas stood up straight, totally still.

"Too late!!"

"Cas?" Cas pulled him in, close, and for just a moment Dean thought Cas was going to kiss him. Then he spoke again, his voice scarily high.

"Cas is. Hmp. Well. He's gone! He's. Dead. We run the show now!" Dean was given about three seconds to let that sink in, let his heart set fire before suddenly, there was a fire on his back, his arms, his head. Metal and burning and Dean almost welcomed the pain.

This was it, this was the end.


	69. Snafued (Hello Cruel World  07x02)

Dean rounded the corner full throttle, just in time to see the back of Cas's head and his raised hands before they sunk beneath the water. He ran all the way to the water edge, his mouth slack with shock. Dean could do nothing but watch as the lake began to whirlpool, pushing Cas down deeper.

The whirlpool faded, the last swirl erupting with a splotch of black inky goo, spreading out in tendrons across the lake. The paint splatter expanded rapidly, the extended lines reaching across the entire bank shore. The black slowly faded, deep into the water, and the last bit of darkness disappeared with a slight ripple to the lake. The entire process only took about five seconds, but Dean's entire life felt like it was in slow motion.

"Aw, hell." Dean followed Bobby's gaze to the sign at the edge of the lake. _Public Water Supply_. Now the black goo had access to everyone and everything. Dean felt a ping of worry, but it was hardly recognizable against the numb denial and shock his entire body was going through.

Dean had lost Castiel a few times, once very recently, and he'd just gotten him back. Only for a few minutes. Before Castiel was taken from him again. Gone. Castiel was gone.

"Damnit." Dean was talking about Cas. Bobby and Sam assumed he was talking about the Leviathan, and started to ramble something about access to anywhere. Dean caught a few words through the black faded edges of his brain, but his mind was still on the image of Cas, _run!_ Then Bobby and Sam were looking at him and Dean had to say something, so they didn't know he wasn't even here right now.

"Awesome." It was his default response for shitty situations, and his mouth took care of it for him, his mind still on the beautiful, pleading eyes, _I'll find a way to redeem myself to you, Dean._ Well coming back right now and not leaving his ass alone again would be a great start towards redemption.

Dean flickered his eyes down, caught by a familiar color in his peripheral he had seen so many times, and was now trying to engrain in the back of his head. Floating in the murky water was the trenchcoat. Cas's trenchcoat.

Dean moved forward automatically, bending down at the waterside to lift it up. It was soaked, soggy as hell and dotted with black goo. Dean held it up, the last piece of Castiel that any of them had. The proof that Cas was gone, that he was dead. Dean's mouth spoke separately from his brain, his brain was screaming and throwing a hissy fit, wanting to ball up the jacket and throw it back into the lake, scream at Cas that he can't do this, he can't leave Dean like this, he better get the fuck back here before Dean came and kicked his angel ass to next Tuesday. Instead, his voice was raw and quiet.

"Okay." Dean nodded sadistically, still not quite believing it, and definitely not okay. 

"So he's gone." Dean eyes were frantic, back and forth at the ground before he managed to look at Bobby. Bobby was wearing his sympathetic, but weary that you might have a breakdown any moment look.

"Yeah. Rest in peace." They both knew there was no point in saying that, Castiel wasn't resting anywhere. Bobby wasn't looking at Dean anymore, he knew he wouldn't have the answers to Dean's horrible expression. Dean didn't notice Bobby's eyes avoiding his, he was too busy clutching the trenchcoat. Dean folded it in half, his hands gently caressing the fabric as he rolled it into thirds. The same fabric that had been under his fingers every time he'd thrown his arm around Cas, the same fabric Dean had grabbed ahold of everytime he needed his angel. The waterlogged coat felt rougher than it had been on the angel, but Cas seemed to soften everything, so Dean wasn't surprised.

Dean just looked down at the now folded trenchcoat, his bottom lip trembling and the corners of his eyes moist. Every moment, every second, Dean had never really appreciated. He'd never taken the time to stand there and thank Cas. Never taken the time to wrap the angel in his arms and just hug him, hold him. Tell him he-. He-

"Dumb son of a bitch." Dean's voice almost cracked, his words giving away how close he was to losing it. Dean clutched onto the fabric one more time, closing his eyes briefly, engraining the feel of it with a mental image of Cas, everything from his disheveled hair and his blue blue eyes, to the way his eyebrows would furrow in confusion at a movie reference. How his hands always rested at his sides, powerful in his stillness. The shadow wings of the angel that had unfolded that first day, the way Dean would sometimes watch him and picture the wings there, how it always amazed him. The dangling drawstrings of his trenchcoat swinging at his sides, the loop in the back low enough for Dean to blush everytime he noticed. The navy tie, the one time Dean had seen Cas strip it off and had nearly lost his ability to form words. The straight line of his mouth when he was scolding Dean, and the way it would curve up slightly from time to time, never often enough. The bright light that would emit from Cas's hands as he killed a demon, the solidarity of two fingers on Dean's forehead, which always burned hot for a few hours afterwards. The fluttering butterflies Dean got in his stomach every time he turned around to a _"Hello, Dean."_ That fluttering, that he had ignored from the day he had met Castiel in Pontiac, Illinois. The fluttering that had been there ever since, and Dean had gotten so used to it he barely noticed it anymore. The one he'd been too afraid to identify, the one he'd never feel again. Dean was about to lose it. Wait, no, that wasn't right. Dean had already lost it. Dean had lost him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Sam?" Dean's neck was starting to hurt, and his leg was being a total bitch, flaring with pain with every jostle of the ambulance. But he couldn't let his gaze leave his brother, lying on the cot next to him. They were hardly a foot apart, but it felt like miles. Dean was practically about to roll off his stretcher, he was so close to the edge. Had to get closer to Sammy.

"Stay with me, you hear?" Dean didn't even care that it was an order. Didn't care that his voice sounded panicked, something it never was. Never ever was. Dean hid his emotions, especially in the goddamned public. But Sammy wasn't responding, and Dean had to make it clear that Dean would totally go kick Sam's ass if he left him. Dean hadn't let himself think about what he'd do if Sam was gone, he'd been down that road twice and each had had very different outcomes. 

Dean would sell his soul again to bring Sam back, although he actually might hesitate on that one. Sam would hate him for that, and Dean wouldn't ever see Sam again. Besides, the crossroads demons hardly had a need for a righteous man's soul anymore. And frankly, Dean was terrified of what might happen if he landed in Hell again. Would he man up, like he couldn't before, and endure the torture? Or would he climb off his rack again, finally transforming into the student he had the potential to be. If he started torturing again, how long before he became a demon? If he ever did become a demon, would he take Alistair's place, torturing and teaching torture? Or would he come topside, some freak part of him still searching for Sam? Would Sam smoke him before he ever had the chance to figure out what would come of them, demon and the most righteous man, lovers from different worlds?

The other option, move on when Sam was gone, was something Dean could never do again. Even if Lis still knew who he was, and for some insane reason would take him in again, Dean couldn't do that to her. Or Ben. Or himself. And it wasn't like Dean was going to marry some waitress he met. Now that Dean had loved Sam, he couldn't ever love again. Not when they were soulmates. 

Wait, soulmates. That was it. That's what Dean would do. If Dean lost Sam, he join him. He'd have to. Because they shared a heaven, and while there was a very likely chance that Dean didn't make it to heaven, it was the closest shot he had at being with Sam. So Dean would find some way to die, join Sam in their heaven, and kick Sam's ass. For dying on him. Then he'd kiss it and make it better.

The medical guy was saying something about Sam, something about head trauma. Sam lifted his head, looking down towards his feet. Dean watched, afraid what he would do to Sam if he tried to snap him into reality. Just a simple jerk of his head to the side at Dean's voice could possibly fuck up his body beyond repair. Dean had no idea how bad Sam's injuries were, but he couldn't risk it. So he watched helplessly as Sam stared at his feet, at some unreal haunting that was torturing him. It killed Dean, not being able to help. 

Sam's eyelids were fluttering, and his throat was working. Dean longed to just reach out a hand, place it over Sam's heart, calm him down. Suddenly, Sam's head thrashed to the side, his eyes shut as his head slammed into the pillow. It was like it had been in the panic room, only worse now because Dean couldn't touch him, heal him.

"Sam? Sammy?!" This machine was beeping, like Sam was suddenly dying. Dean opened his mouth to say something, get Sam to snap out of it, when he heard the medic's voice.

"Yeah, he's seizing." Dean looked up at the guy, pleading. Please, just save him. Please, let me out of this hospital stretcher so I can save him.

Dean looked back at Sam, at his beautiful face, distorted with pain as he thrashed violently.

"Copy that, we're pulling into Sioux Falls."

"Sioux Falls?" Dean looked up at the medic. Shit. "Sioux Falls General? No no no. No, you gotta take us somewhere else. Anywhere, please!"

Dean didn't grovel and Dean didn't beg, but there was no way in hell Dean was going to let them be submitted into monster mall hospital.

"Yeah, okay buddy." The medic blew him off and began unhooking something from the wall.

Dean threw his head onto the rockpillow in exasperation. Shit shit shit. How the hell were they going to get out of here? Not with Sammy having head trauma.

Dean's body was tucked inside his the blanket covering the stretcher, but Dean had gotten out of much worse, when in much more pain. The medic turned around for a moment, and Dean slid his shoulder up, ignoring the groan and split of pain, maybe even windshield glass, in his scapula. He flicked his hand out of the blanket, reaching his arm out to Sam. Dean grabbed ahold of Sam's hand, and it was the gimp one, so Dean was careful. He slid his fingers up to Sam's wrist, wrapping around his fragile skin and holding on tightly. 

"Sir, we're going to have to take your brother to the ICU now."

"No. No, I'm not leaving him. You wheel me in there with him, my leg can wait." Dean's eyes never left Sammy's face, he just held on to his wrist and stared, willing Sam to wake up, be okay. They had to get the hell out of dodge.

"We can't operate with outside people in the room. And your leg needs to be set before it can cause permanent damage." Dean finally flicked his eyes up to the medic.

"Permanent damage my ass. I'm not leaving him. You can't take me away from my brother." Dean turned his gaze back on Sam, gently rubbing his thumb over Sam's veins. "He needs me."

"Buddy, there's nothing you can do. We're going to give you a mild sedative-"

"Oh hell no. You can't drug me to get me away from him, that's fucking illegal. Don't you- no! don't you dare!" The medic had a loaded syringe, and he was coming at Dean. Dean swatted at the syringe with the one free hand, and it flew a few feet behind the medic. The medic cursed and turned around to grab it. Dean brought his free hand to his mouth, kissing it quickly and reaching out to stroke Sam's cheek. He couldn't reach to actually kiss Sam, but the medic guy would probably get him down eventually and there was no way Dean was letting Sam leave without him knowing how much Dean loved him. 

Then the medic guy was back at him again, a string of curses. He approached from behind Dean's head, out of reach of his arm. Dean felt a pinch in his neck, then everything started to fade to black.

He couldn't see the ambulance anymore, his vision blurring at the edges, then blackening, encompassing his vision in a circle so the last thing he saw was the snafued body of his brother.

"Sammy? Saammmm..."


	70. Debonair (The Girl Next Door  07x03)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Thank you all so much for reading, you have no idea how awesome that is to me. Okay, so the past two chapters, I was kind of out of it, writer's block and such. So this morning I went back and editted them, added scenes to both. If you want to reread them, cool. If not, cool. Either way, thought I'd let you know. Merci beaucoup and happy reading!! xx

As soon as Bobby was gone, Dean lifted his head and turned it to Sam.

"How're you holdin up?" 

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, checking briefly around the room to make sure it was just him and Dean. No Lucifer in sight, Sam nodded. 

"I'm doing fine. How's your leg?"

"Itchy. But my back's starting to hurt like a bitch from sitting in the same goddamned position for the past however many days. Mind helping a fellow out?" Dean's head was still strained around, just his arm and head visible from behind the couch. Sam nodded again, closing his book and setting it on the table in front of him. Getting up, he was a bit wobbly at first, but Sam managed to walk steady enough over to the couch. His mental...issues were causing his body to be tired all the time, which was quite annoying. Although there wasn't much else to do but sleep, and Sam and Dean had been doing a lot of that over the past couple of days. 

They always kept the couple stuff on a major downlow around Bobby, he made snarky comments enough when they were ten feet apart. But now that he was gone, Sam finally could just let go off all the tension that had been constantly building in his shoulders. Dean's touch brought him reality, just like the pain did. The moment Sam's hand came to rest on Dean's waist, a warm pulse echoed from his fingers all the way through his body. Sam's eyes drifted closed for a moment, appreciating the warmth and the clarity in Dean's solidarity. 

When Sam opened his eyes again, Dean was looking at him, part curiosity and part concern. Sam just put his other hand on Dean's other hip, lifting him slighty and sliding him further down on the couch. Dean grumbled something about being manhandled, but his expression was just as relieved as Sam's at the touch. Sam took the place where Dean had been on the couch, the cushions feeling amazing against his back. 

Sam wrapped his hands around Dean's shoulders, guiding him down slowly to lay on the couch. Like Sam had positioned it to, Dean's head landed in Sam's lap. Sam put his legs up on the coffee table, comfortable and outstreched. Dean was laying on the rest of the length of the couch, his shoulders tucked up against Sam's thigh, the fingers of one hand curling around one of Sam's. Sam let Dean take his hand, using his free one to card his fingers through Dean's ruffled hair. Dean leaned into the touch, for once not making some comment about girly petting. Sam could feel Dean's heartbeat in his neck, solid and calm against his thigh. Sam felt the heart inside his chest, beating in the same rhythm.

It wasn't long before exhaustion took Dean, and his breathing slowly fell into a steady rhythm. Sam's fingers kept running through Dean's hair, gently raking his fingernails against Dean's scalp. Dean made a quiet murmur in his sleep, his fingers going lax in Sam's hand. 

This was when Sam felt the most intimate with Dean, when he was asleep. Even after they had sex, and were curled around each other, soft and sedated, Dean still had his snarky comments and his debonair grin. Or the days before one of them knew they were going to die, when they'd lay together, stare into each other's eyes, memorize the other's body with their hands and eyes and mouths, Dean would still be wrecked with emotion, anger and pain and sadness. The only time Dean set aside all of his barriers, all of his emotions, everything that he used to protect himself, the only time Dean became overly vulnerable, was when he slept. 

Sometimes, Dean could still have worry lines on his brow, or a tight set to his mouth as he dreamt, but that was only when he had nightmares. So when Dean was sleeping peacefully, his face evened out into an almost childish innocence, beautiful and simple and so sweetly vulnerable. 

Sam looked down at Dean's sleeping form. Over the past few days, Dean's sleep had been compromised by worry lines and restless shifting. For now, though, Dean slept safe and sound. Sam tilted his head back against the cushions of the couch, his eyes sliding shut as well. Sometimes when Dean slept, Sam would stay awake for hours watching him. Now, though, Sam let his eyes drift closed, succumbing to sleep finally. Sam was sometimes afraid to close his eyes, knowing Lucifer would be behind them, crystal clear and as sadistic as ever. There was also a small part of him that feared what would be there when his eyes opened again. Sam had had a hundred nightmares it felt, that he had gone to sleep and woken up back in the cage, hanging from a rack and burning. 

But Dean was here, their bodies and their skin were connected. So Lucifer wouldn't be able to invade Sam's brain. Dean was the only thing that let Sam sleep peacefully. Dean was his own personal NyQuil.

Dean was also his clarity, he made all of Sam's senses sharper somehow, which was quite useful for hunting. Right now, Sam could feel the tiny bit of cold dampness on his thigh, where Dean's slightly parted lips wet his leg. He could feel every one of the rough calluses on Dean's hand, could place the reason behind most of them. He felt the slight raised line on the back of Dean's head, where Sam had stitched him up at one point, after a particularly nasty bout with a monster. Sam had Dean memorized, but never stopped being fascinated by ever inch of him. Besides, there were new scars to memorize much more often than Sam would like. 

But it was the steady beating of Dean's heart that finally lulled Sam to sleep. It was the familiar feeling, a memorized rhythm that beat the same in Sam's own chest. And so the last thing he thought before he fell under was of the connections they shared, the codependency. That dangerous, dangerous codependency.


	71. Plenary (Defending Your Life  07x04)

"It's complicated." Dean had no idea what _"it's complicated"_ was supposed to mean, but it did nothing to make him feel any better about what the god was saying. Dean _had_ dragged Sam back into the life, Dean _had_ ruined Sammy's future as a lawyer with a beautiful wife. Now look what Sam had. The only thing Sam owned was broken, a murdering mess, and a liar. And killed Sam's friends.

"That one act had quite a domino effect. Come back, your girl is dead."

"That wasn't his fault."

"Sure, and neither is everything that came after it, all the death, and the blood, how you're hanging on by a thread, and how you're in an illegal and immoral relationship with your own brother, none of that is on Dean, directly."

Those words soaked in, and Dean really heard them, saw how true they were for the first time. His mind swarmed with visions of the past, his fist into Sam's face, pushing Ben, letting innocent people get shot, Pamela's death, Joe and Ellen's death, John's death, all of the things that Dean blamed himself for. Lisa's near death, torturing souls in hell, breaking the first seal. Then came the worst part, he could see it again, as clear as if the cold mud was still seeping in through the knees of his jeans. Holding Sammy's dead body against his own, pressing his hand at the knife wound in Sam's back. Pulling his hand away to see blood. Then making the deal, kissing Sam after Azazel had died. Slowly corrupting his brother, polluting his perfect mind with Dean's filth, dragging him down into the belief that he actually needed Dean. Sam would be fine without him, always had been, and Dean had dragged Sam down like a weight, pulling him into his life and into his bed. Could see himself hovering over Sam, pushing inside of him. Bringing this abomination of a relationship upon the purity that had once been his brother. It was Dean's fault. Dean had pushed Sam into this, Dean had ruined him. Dean was the reason Sam was so fucked up, not to mention the reason why he spent a century in hell, too. Dean was the only one to blame.

"I love Dean, it's not-

"Sam, but don't you think, that your brother dragged you back into that catastrophic mess because he'd rather damn you with him, than be alone."

It was true. Every word of it was true.

Dean didn't need to hear Sam's response, couldn't even look at Sammy right now. He knew Sam wouldn't see it, wouldn't see the truth. How right the god was. Sam would roll his eyes at Dean, blow it off as just another person who didn't understand what was between them. But it was more than that. Dean had done this to Sam. All of it.

"No. One way or another I'd have gotten pulled back in. I couldn't stay away from Dean forever, even back then."

"You know that for certain."

"Pretty sure."

"Pretty sure?"

"I'm positive." That was Sam's scary voice. So Dean wasn't surprised to hear fear in the god's voice when he responded.

"I believe you! Hey, if it was about convincing me, I would say-"

"What?" Dammit Sam, Dean needed to know what the stupid god would have said.

"I don't decide anything, Sam. I don't decide Dean's guilt. I just weigh the guilt that's already there." Dean looked from Sam to the god. Well shit. Dean was about 90% guilt, and the other 10% alcohol and violence. "This is solely about how Dean's feels. Waayy down deep. Then's the breaks."

This was it, this was hopeless. There was no way Dean was making it out of this one alive. Because even worse than feeling guilty for ruining Sam, Dean felt guilty for lying to him. Dean had crossed over the guilt barrier of incest a long time ago, he'd come to terms with it at one point, maybe he could do it again. He just needed some reminders, _It isn't our fault that our soul was put into two bodies that were born under the same roof. You and I are so much bigger than just the parents we have. Our soul, our hearts, our love, it's beyond just this human life and the way society thinks. They have nothing to do with us, De, we're nothing like the rest of the world. The love we share is more plenary than they could ever understand. Just because we ended up being related in flesh, doesn't make our love wrong or any less perfect._ Dean knew he could get talked off the cliff with that one. Maybe. (Although it was still his fault, Sam could be truly happy without him, with someone he can hold hands with in the streets and marry and have a family with.)

But Dean couldn't get over his lie. Lying to Sam was his top least favourite thing to do, it always ended horribly, with someone getting drastically hurt. What was Dean supposed to do?

Sam and the god had been chatting, but Dean didn't hear them over his echoing thoughts. Now, though, he heard Sam call him to the stand. As much as Dean had faith in Sam's lawyer skills, there was no way this was going to go anywhere good.

What Sam said made sense though. How he couldn't predict the future, how Joe's death wasn't his fault.

"Dean. Does any of this feel like it's really on you? I mean, even our relationship, that's not your fault either. I'm clearly a full grown, strong and capable man. Don't you think, if I didn't want to be with you, I would have no trouble defending myself or leaving? Even in the beginning, when it first started, I kissed you back. And then I initiated it again. If I wanted out, I could easily have gotten out. After all, I could beat you in a fight, you know that from when you broke into my apartment at Stanford. So it's not _you_ who did this to me, we did it together. I want you just as much as you want me, if not more. So the way I feel about you, my own opinions, how could those be your fault? Do you feel guilty for the way that my own brain works?"

"Not really. That wouldn't make any sense. I can't decide how you feel for you."

"Then is your heart heavy with guilt, or just plain heavy and none of this guys business?" The none of this guy's business was thrown in there as a jab against the god for invading Sam and Dean's relationship, calling it wrong and something to be guilty for. 

"Uh. What you said. The second thing."

"Then I rest my case."

So that wasn't so bad. Everything Sam said did make sense. Damn, Sam would have been an amazing lawyer. If Dean hadn't had ruined that for him, yanking him out of law school the day before his big break. Wait. That was guilt again. Damn, they were never going to win this, were they?


	72. Pulchritude (Shut Up, Dr. Phil  07x05)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> porn. lots of porn.

"No, don't say 'yeah, okay' like 'yeah, okay.'"

"Yeah, okay." Sam's voice faded quieter as he made his way to the bathroom.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. Sometimes with the six foot four of concentrated sass, it just. Yeah, just Sam. Dean didn't really have words for it. It was a good thing Sam was attractive, cause sometimes he could be annoying to beat the high heavens. Heaven. Cas. Dammit.

Dean picked up his glass, rolling it in his hand and looking at the little bit left. He'd gone through half a bottle today already. It had become a game of "take a sip every time you think of Cas" and that had literally started becoming a drunken disaster. Dean sighed and sat the glass back down. Any more alcohol and the world would start to get fuzzy. Dean couldn't work with fuzzy. 

Although he couldn't keep torturing himself with Castiel either. Dean needed to get his mind off of it. Sometimes Dean would be fine, when they were on a hunt, when he was preoccupied. It was just this in between time that killed him so much. Distraction. Dean needed a distraction. And there was one hell of a beautiful boy in the shower right now, just a room away. 

Dean checked the time on the computer, debating whether Sam would have washed off the majority of the sweat by now. Probably not, the boy took princess showers when he could. Dean decided he could live with the smell. The chair squeaked horribly as Dean stood up, its feet dragging across the floor in a protest. The sound was high pitched, piercing. Like Cas's true voice, that first day he knocked all of the glass out of the convenience store and Dean's hotel room. _No._ Not Castiel. Not now. 

Dean practically ran to the bathroom, his head chanting Sam's name like a mantra. When he got to the closed door, Dean swung it wide, stepping in without knocking.

"Hey, Lance, you any less sweaty yet?" Dean could see a vague outline of Sam's body behind the ugly green shower curtain. The mirror on the left was fogged at the corners, and Dean could see his reflection out of the corner of his eye, carefully avoiding looking straight at himself. Not really sure why, just avoiding it.

"He's biking, Dean." Sam didn't so much as drop a beat or peek his head out from the side of the curtain. Dean did a quick survey of the rest of the tiny bathroom, Sam's sweaty clothes thrown in a pile on the right side of the room. There was only one towel hanging on the towel bar, so Dean opened up the cabinet above the toilet, taking out the other towel and draping it over Sam's. 

"You're...biking," Dean mumbled, crossing the bathroom to close the door behind him. He turned back to watch Sam's silhouette, shedding his checkered button-up. Dean was sure not to throw his clothes on top of Sam's, he'd like to not have to where sweat-smelling clothes for the rest of the day. Dean did a quick half-fold of his shirt, deciding he'd just put it on again when he got out of the shower. Dean lifted his tshirt off, grabbing the bottom hem with his hand crossed over and quickly stripping it over his head. That, he tossed on top of the folded shirt, already unbuttoning his jeans. Dean wiggled out of his pants, careful to keep the button from clanking against the floor. His boxers came off as swiftly as his tshirt, then he was pulling back the shower curtain to reveal his soaking wet brother.

Sam opened his eyes in surprise, tilting his head back forward out of the stream to see Dean stepping inside the shower with him. Sam had thought Dean had closed the door behind him, left Sam to shower in peace. Apparently not. Although Sam didn't particularly mind the disruption, not when the pulchritude of his naked brother was now standing before him. They didn't have sex on a daily basis, as much as they'd both like to, they were too busy, too tired, too injured. The job took a lot out of them both, and they both put saving lives in front of a night of pleasure. But here Dean was, and as suspicious as Sam wanted to be, he wouldn't push Dean on the _why_ until later. Clearly, something was up, but now wasn't the time. Not when Dean's naked body was right there, and Sam was much too far away. Sam didn't say anything, just let his mouth curl up into a smile as he stepped forward and closed the gap between them, his mouth taking ahold of Dean's. 

Dean tilted his head up obediently, his lips parting to let Sam take ahold of him. The sudden submission went straight to Sam's dick, and he pressed his body against Dean's, his hands cupping Dean's face possessively and his half-hard cock snug against Dean's hip. Dean let out a soft moan and Sam's dick jumped again. Suddenly Dean was much too dry, and Sam's wet body was much too cold. Sam slid his wet hands down Dean's back, savouring the shiver his fingertips reverberated throughout Dean's body. His hands slid over the slope just under Dean's lower back, (it was quite a slope, too) and cupped Dean's ass, pulling his brother closer and stepping them both backwards into the spray. 

Dean panted softly into Sam's mouth, his fingers curling into Sam's back. Sam could feel Dean's dick hard against Sam's hip, and Sam shifted his hips a bit to the right, rubbing a friction between them. Dean's hips canted forward and he jutted up against Sam in a smooth motion, warm water running down in between their bodies now. Dean's hair was still feathered into soft spikes, misty water droplets clinging to the ends. Sam's height was blocking any of the water from getting on Dean's head, although some of the spray still got past Sam's shoulders and hit Dean's chest, making a river of warmth that ran down his abdomen, the water tracing tracks against the unique lines of Dean's abs. Sam loved Dean's stomach (well actually his whole body), loved how it wasn't the normal, square-drawn-on six pack that Sam had. Dean had muscles, that was for sure. He just didn't work out like Sam did every day, so he had a much less uniform tightness across his stomach.

Sam squeezed Dean's ass, grinning as he felt Dean's lips vibrate in a whine.The shower was tiny, as was all of their showers, so Sam pulled Dean in, as tight as he could possibly fit the smaller man inside the nook of his body. Their lips separated, and Dean nestled his head in the dip between Sam's clavical and shoulder. One of Sam's hands left Dean's ass in favour of grabbing Dean's hip, keeping him flush to Sam and steady as Sam spun them around. He managed to flip their position without falling, or impaling Dean on the showerhead or the wall. 

The spray of the water instantly wet down Dean's hair, his soft spikes flattening into a hairstyle that looked much less rebellious. It wasn't often Dean's hair was flat, so Sam took a moment to admire it as Dean lifted his head off of Sam's chest. Dean looked older, more mature with his hair flattened down. Sam lifted a hand to Dean's hair, his fingers brushing though it and lifting it from being pinned to his forehead.

"I know I'm pretty, but must you stop now, Sammy?" Dean's mouth was tilted up in a side-smirk, although the way he circled his hips to grind up against Sam was anything but debonair. Sam looked at Dean for one more moment, running his eyes all the way from his wet hair down to Dean's toes, which were placed in between Sam's feet, letting Sam have the powerful stance. It was another unique show of total submission, and it was starting to drive Sam crazy. Content as he could be at the moment for looking at Dean, (Sam took every second he could to memorize his brother, tuck away little things for later. They'd both died way too many times for it to be any other way.) Sam finally locked his eyes on the green ones again, his reminiscing quickly shifting to lust, pupils darkening.

Sam put both his hands on Dean's slightly tapered waist, gripping him tightly and rotating him to face the spray in a rough push. Dean put his hands on the wall to brace himself, dipping his head down and groaning. The shower spray had about a foot of gap behind it, so the water hit just below Dean's shoulderblades and ran down his back, pooling slightly in the obscene arc of his lower back. Sam traced his fingertips through the slight puddle, watching Dean's body shudder in anticipation. Sam trailed his touch further down, letting one finger follow the line of Dean's crack, all the way down to his tight hole. Dean rested his head against his forearms on the wall, the water moving back a little further on his spine. Sam grabbed the soap, figuring the water might not be quite enough of a friction deterrent. 

His fingers slicked up now, Sam pressed his forefinger against Dean's hole, rubbing the outside for just a moment before slipping the tip of his finger in. Dean arced his back, like an inverted cat, pushing himself backwards onto Sam. Sam took the invitation and slid in up to his knuckle, sliding back out and pushing in again. The pace he used was fast and dirty, the stream of water over Dean's ass making it already extremely slippery.

"C'mon, Sammy, gotta give me more than that," Dean panted out, his hands balling up beneath his forehead. Sam took the invitation happily, adding a second finger into his quick tempo. Dean was still tight around Sam's fingers, but the soft noises coming out of his lips were noises of pleasure instead of pain. Sam couldn't quite remember the last time he was so rough with Dean. Dean was drinking it up, and if Sam weren't so turned on by it either, he'd step back and be worried. Something was clearly up, but the way Dean was dragging across his fingers was much to distracting to think about it or analyze it any. _Later_ , Sam promised himself. And then it was a third finger and his coherent thought level of anything besides Dean's body basically vanished.

It wasn't long before Dean was writhing on Sam's fingers, begging for more, begging to be fucked. Sam couldn't deny Dean, especially when his brother was like this, opened up for him and bending over with a stream of warm water rushing down his back. The steam of the water had started to set into the shower now, and everything felt moist and hot and sticky, and Sam needed a lot more of Dean right now. Dean may have been comfortable where he was, but Sam had other ideas. Sam drew two of his fingers out, keeping one inside Dean as he put his other hand on Dean's chest, bringing Dean up to standing. Sam grabbed Dean with his free hand and pushed him up against the side wall, across from the shower curtain. The water was hitting Dean's right thigh and Sam's left, the upper halves of their bodies still engulfed in the warm steam. 

Dean let out a high pitched keen (that he'd entirely deny later) as Sam slammed Dean's body against the wall, one of Sam's fingers still in Dean's ass, holding him in place and spinning at all sorts of new angles as Sam had moved Dean. Sam pressed himself up against Dean, their cocks sliding against each other and causing them both to curse. 

"How bad do you want it, baby?" Sam's voice was rough and low, and Dean tilted his head back against the wall, eyes sliding shut. 

"Please, Sammy, please? I want you in me, I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you later, feel the burn of my lover inside me and - ohhh, fuck Sam." Sam had taken to bucking against Dean during his plead, and he'd leaned forwards to bite Dean's neck, his teeth rough and bruising. Sam pulled back to see Dean's eyelids fluttering, and Sam couldn't take it anymore.

He hauled Dean up with one hand on each of Dean's ass cheeks.Dean wrapped his legs around Sam's hips, his back pressed up against the wet wall. Sam moved a hand to Dean's hip, placing the other at the base of his erection, guiding Dean down onto his dick. Dean sunk down in one slow motion, his tight inner silk dragging against Sam's dick. The soap and steam had been enough to take out any discomfort, so Dean bottomed out in his first glide down. Dean let out a low strangled moan, his hands gripping Sam's biceps hard enough to leave bruises. Sam gave Dean a moment to adjust to the feeling, then he was drawing his hips back and out, pushing in to sink into Dean's tight warmth. 

The warmth of the steam, added to the warmth of Dean's silky ass, was rocketing stars in Sam's vision. He drew back again, mist from the shower spray wetting the parts of his cock that he pulled out of Dean. Even wetter and slicker than before, Sam grinded his hips forward and up again, watching Dean shutter with the sensation. It wasn't long before Sam picked up a fast and messy rhythm, the spray of the water, mixed with the beads of precum, slicked the way for pounding into Dean. Dean writhed and moaned on his cock, his breath catching with every pump of Sam's hips. Sam drank up the noises, his thumbs digging deeper into the tense flesh directly beneath Dean's hip bones. 

Dean's hair was partially drying into soft spikes again, although the spikes fell over his forehead loosely instead of sticking up. Dean had his beautiful green eyes shut at the moment, his mouth parted in a perfect porn star o. Sam couldn't take the distance he had from that mouth. Sam shifted his angle, stepping closer to the wall and scooting Dean a little higher. When Sam brought Dean down onto him again, Dean's eyes shot open and a punched moan escaped his lips.

"Fuck, Sam, god, fuck, right there." Dean's voice was mostly just air, his words breathy and accentuated by groans. Sam was close enough now to reach Dean's mouth, and he covered it with his own, licking into the crevice of where Dean's lips met, biting and his bottom lips and sucking at Dean's tongue. Dean entire body trembled as he overloaded on all of his senses, Sam slamming into his prostate with every thrust, eliciting noises from Dean's mouth that Sam licked up into his own. Dean's hands moved up to tangle themselves in Sam's hair, tugging slightly and blurring Sam's vision with pleasure. 

Sam felt a familiar heat building low in his stomach. He was on the edge, but determined to make Dean come first. Sam went to work with his mouth, biting at Dean's jaw and licking a stripe down the side of his neck. Sam grazed his teeth over the length of Dean's collarbone, his tongue darting out as he shifted slightly lower, tracing the black inked star with his tongue. Sam used his teeth to trace the fire circle around it, his tongue tracing the familiar pattern over and over. Dean threw his head back against the shower wall, too in the moment to feel any pain that didn't register as pleasure. 

"Fuck- Sammm!" Dean clenched around Sam's length, head falling forward as he shot come all over their chests. The shower washed away some of it immediately, but the spray didn't reach high enough to get it all. Sam wrapped his hands back around to Dean's ass, slamming into him one more time before he came, shooting deep inside Dean. They both rode out their orgasms with a few faltering pumps, the stars in Sam's vision sparkling everywhere.

Dean finally just collapsed forward onto Sam's chest, his ass and Sam's hips the only thing pinning him to the wall. Sam gripped him tightly, his hands moving up to Dean's back. Sam covered the expanse of Dean's naked skin with his hands, rubbing comfort and love into Dean's spine. Dean actually let him for a moment or two, his head resting on Sam's shoulder and his arms curled up around Sam's back. After a little while, Dean lifted his head, placing a chaste kiss to Sam's cheek. 

"You wanna get out of me now, asshat?" Sam laughed and placed his hands on Dean's hips again, lifting him up slowly and cringing slightly at the dragging sensation across his overly sensitized dick. Dean winced as well, probably from a mixture of soreness and the suddenly empty feeling that came afterwards. Sam's come was leaking out of Dean and rivering down his thighs.

Once Dean had his feet on the ground, Sam steered him into the spray, letting the water wash them both clean. Despite Dean's mild protests, Sam reached for the soap and brought it to Dean's chest, rubbing him down with suds. Sam smoothed the soap over every inch of Dean's body, taking his time and closing his eyes at times to prevent the spray from getting in them. Sam was particularly gentle anywhere Dean would be sore, including the three purpling bruises Sam had left with his mouth, and the two he'd left with his thumbs. Dean stood, patient enough, which Sam was quite grateful for. Now that he had come down from both his runner's high and his orgasm high, Sam had time for his thoughts, for his worries about Dean.

"Hey," Sam said gently, standing to look Dean in the eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Sam, you didn't fuck me _that_ hard. I'll be fine. A little sore, but fine."

Sam rolled his eyes. He definitely wasn't talking about that.

"No, I meant. You seem a little...off." 

Recognition dawned on Dean's face, and then he shut down all of his emotions, his wall from earlier right back up.

"Sam, we already talked about this. There's nothing wrong." Dean's eyes solid and sure, which would've convinced anyone in the world besides Sam. "Besides, quit ruining the mood. Just finish your girly washing thing so we can get to work and save some asses. After all, if we don't save them, they'll never know how great it is to have something shoved up it."

Sam sighed, but smiled at Dean's vulgarity. 

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" Dean smiled, bringing his hand to Sam's cheek and drawing him in for a kiss.

"Yeah, I know."


	73. Inhibited (Slash Fiction  07x06)

"I just want to let you know how much I've really grown to _hate_ you and your brother since we've been wearing you."

Sam just glared up at the Leviathan, who wore Dean's face, but somehow wasn't nearly as beautiful. Maybe he was missing the light in his eyes. Maybe it was just the way this Leviathan spoke. He didn't speak with the tenderness that Sam's Dean spoke with.

"I just don't get it. You could be anything, you're strong, you're inhibited. You're smart enough, believe it or not. But you're so caught up with being _good_ , taking care of each other. Loving each other."

The Leviathan spat out the word "love" like it was poisonous in its filthy mouth. Sam got the whole talk him up thing, if the Leviathan needed info, but Sam didn't have anything to give. So he wasn't sure what all the drawl was about.

"Why do you care?" 

"BECAUSE IT PISSES ME OFF!!"

Sam meet the Leviathan's eyes cooly, refusing to be affected by all the word play. The Leviathan's face melted back down into the teasing expression again. He was enjoying the challenge of talking up Sam, but Sam had himself under control. The Leviathan was going to have to try a lot harder than that. Then a terrifying smile came over Levi's face as he looked down. When he met Sam's eyes again, his expression was wicked. And scarily similar to one that Dean wore sometimes.

"You're wasting a perfectly good opportunity to subjugate the weak."

Sam just leaned back in his chair, letting boredom cross over his face for a moment. The Levi studied him for a moment, then leaned forward, his hands on the table. The smirk came back, a little more obvious this time. Like the Levi was about to win the jackpot.

"You know, it's in you. You just have to embrace it. And it's not like you have morals or anything. After all, you are fucking your own brother."

Sam's eyes snapped over to the Levi, but his face remained composed. 

"Incest is certainly a _huge_ first step in the right direction on the path of evil. I mean, c'mon. Didn't Daddy raise you right? Oh wait, Daddy didn't like you at all. Maybe that's the only reason you turn to Dean. And it's funny, you wanted to be sooo normal Sam. Well, that maybe could have happened if you didn't end up letting your big brother fuck you."

_Love is love, it's not our fault we got born into this life under the same roof. Our soul is tied as one, we share a heaven. Our love is not wrong, our love is not evil. Our love saved the world and it will save the world again._

Sam ran through the mantra in his head, forcing his face to stay as calm as it could be. The Levi made his way around the table now, sitting on it close to Sam. He didn't even smell like Dean did.

"You know, you might not want to fuck big brother anymore, especially if you knew what he did. Here's the deal. Dean...thinks you're nutballs. He thinks you're off your game."

"Are you gonna kill me, or is this some sort of play with your food bowl?" Sam put on a sass face, still trying to remain unaffected by the Levi's words.

The Levi sat for a moment, putting a new twist on Dean's pretending-not-to-be-pissed face by smiling a little at the corner of his mouth. The way he twisted all of Dean's familiar expressions into sinister, terrifying ones was probably the worst part of this whole ordeal. Sam could take the incest speech, lord knows how many demons and monsters had tried to use it to their advantage. The problem for them was, Dean and Sam were a team, and loving each other only made that bond stronger. Which meant they'd find each other, and kill whatever creature was trying to down talk their love.

"Alright," he said, stalking away for a moment. "Alright. You know, I guess because he bed you, that's why Dean never told you he killed Amy."

Sam looked up to meet the monster's eyes. Truth was the only thing on the Levi's face and Sam let himself absorb the words. That would explain everything. Why Dean's been acting odd, why Sam had felt like Dean had lied to him about something, that last witness for his trial. Dean had killed Amy. And Dean had promised, he said this was their new start. Their new beginning. He said he had to start trusting Sam some time, said this was proof. But he didn't trust Sam. He went behind his back, killed his friend, and then lied to him about it.

Sam didn't even realize what his face must have looked like until he saw the monster grin.

"There it is. The look on your face. That is _priceless!_ That's what I've been waiting for." Sam was hardly even registering the Levi's words, his head flooded with Dean, with all the lies. They'd gone backwards so far, just reset any forward movement in their relationship.

"Now I can eat you." The Levi laughed as he rounded the corner, a chilling thing Sam didn't know Dean's mouth could make. "Cause you see, I like my meat a little _bitter_."

Sam looked in the mirror across from them, saw Dean's face, evil at the corners, hovering over Sam's shoulder. How many times had Dean hovered there, gazing a research, touching Sam discreetly. And now it felt like death, like the end. If only Sam didn't feel so angry at Dean in the last few moments before he died.

The door slammed open, and a much more disheveled Dean busted into the room. The Levi advanced towards him, but Dean splashed it's face, Dean's face, making him burn and smoke. Sam put his head down to block his eyes and face from the fight, but he heard the Levi's head hit the floor. Sam lifted his head, partially overwhelmed, to see the body collapse to the floor as well.

"Well that felt good." Dean held the black goo splattered ax, slowing his breathing purposefully. Sam normally would make a comment, bring up to Dean later about how chopping his own head off felt good, about how Dean seriously should stop hating himself, but Sam still hated Dean a little bit right now too, so he couldn't exactly coach him in self-love.

Sam was still having a difficult time grasping everything that had just happened so quickly, and the whole, that beautiful man right there lied to you and killed one of your only friends in this world. And lied to you about it. Dean had started lying again. Then the officer was unfastening Sam's handcuffs, and he watched them clunk to the table, open and discarded. Sam looked up when he heard Dean's scruffy voice, watched his mouth move as he spoke to the officer. Sam wasn't registering their conversation, he was just watching Dean's mouth. The mouth that had traced over Sam's body, the mouth that had captured Sam's lips and licked and bit at him. The mouth that had lied to him, poisoned his words and ruined their fresh start. 

"C'mon, let's grab a mop." Words that were directed towards him. It wasn't often Dean looked down at Sam anymore, but Sam felt like he was looking up at Dean even when he stood above him.

"Sammy? You okay?" Dean had made it three steps in the other direction before he noticed something was wrong. Sam wasn't sure to be flattered Dean had noticed so quickly or to be offended that he'd had an entire conversation before he noticed. Sam moved his eyes back to his brother. He wasn't sure if his voice would fail him, so he nodded slightly first, cutting his gaze away.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Not meeting Dean's eyes.

"Let's go." Then Dean was out the door, mission in mind. Sam watched Dean leave before he stood. He wasn't sure how he was going to do this. He couldn't go to sleep with his arms wrapped around Dean tonight, not when Dean had murdered someone Sam had cared about. That just couldn't happen. Sam would rather sleep alone. Sam was going to sleep alone.


	74. Appendages (The Mentalists  07x07)

"You didn't send that ghost. So. Thank you for coming to kill it."

Dean nodded, his mouth curving up automatically. He wasn't focusing on her much, he was too busy thinking about Sam. Dean had made him smile _twice_ in the last five minutes. The first one, the "he was boning her?" comment got a face palm and a _Deaaann_ , accompanied by a flash of trying-not-smile smile. And then when Dean'd threatened the waiter, Sam had turned his head to the side in a guilty smile as well. Dean was so high on just being near Sam, the idea that he could make Sammy _smile_ was just blowing his mind.

"You and Sam see a little better." Dean looked up, the psychic's words finally peaking his interest. Dean glanced towards the door, then turned back to her.

"You can tell that from the walk up?"

She smiled and kind of tilted her head to the side, shrugging.

"Take it or leave it." Dean nodded. He was actually pretty intrigued now. Then she started giving him the whole "so this is goodbye" speech, and the sudden interest he had pretty much faded. How many times had he heard this speech? He could probably say her lines for her.

"It's not like you can tell the future, right?" Dean thought it was pretty funny, but she just "hmmm"ed and reached for his hand, turning it over. Dean almost expected her to pull out a pen and jot down her number, or teasingly run her nails across his palm. But she just looked down, turning it slightly like she was inspecting it. Dean looked up at her, ridiculously hopeful. What could she tell him? Dean prayed it was something about Sammy, something about anything happy they had in a future together.

_His palm was the palm of a worker, which didn't surprise her. He seemed comfortable enough with her touching it, although he had seemed a little surprised, almost reluctant at first. These hands belonged to someone else. The way his fingers naturally didn't curl up probably meant he hadn't had done a lot of handholding, and if he had, he had been in the sub position. This was easy enough to tell from the way boys would sit at movie theatres, their hand propped casually on the armrest, fingers curled up in an invitation to the girl. Since Dean's naturally didn't curl, the suspicions she had for Dean being gay were pretty much confirmed. He didn't hold hands much, but when he did, the person was taller than him. And probably had long, slicked back hair and pretty hazel eyes that were always staring when Dean wasn't looking. She had known they had been together at one point the second that they walked into the room. It practically leaked off of them. She just didn't know why they'd broken up, and if they had, why in the world they agreed to work together. But she was glad they did, it wasn't often she saw two people so perfectly meant for each other. That much was obvious in Dean's hands. They seemed to be reaching towards the door, towards Sam. It was like Dean's energy was always pointed in the direction of his partner. Their energies met somewhere in the middle, with sparks and something beautiful. Soulmates, if she'd ever seen one. But maybe it wasn't quite time to let Dean know that._

"Well. Answer's hazy," she smiled. "Try again later." 

Dean chuckled and looked down, hiding the disappointment in his eyes. 

"Right."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey."

"Hey." 

Dean had definitely noticed Sam putting his bag in Dean's car. It was the first thing his eyes hit to when he stepped outside. He instantly turned in Sam's direction, just a little surprised to find it was the same direction in which Dean'd parked his car.

"That's your stuff." He was almost afraid to say it, afraid Sam'd pull it out and be like, oh my mistake. I can't ride with you. I can't be with you.

"Yeah, yeah." Sam's eyes darted down, although his voice was confident, Dean could see the hesitance in his shoulders. "I figured we'd take one car."

"Works for me." Dean made a face, using humour to hide how extremely overjoyed he felt. "You still wanna break my face?"

That invoked another smile. Not as genuine as the earlier ones, but it was still a smile.

"No. Uh, not at this moment." Dean nodded, not sure how to take that.

"You know what. Um. You were right. About Amy. If she had been just any monster, I'm not sure I could've let her walk away. I dunno. I mean, I'll never know."

Dean wasn't sure exactly what Sam was getting to. He was thankful for the "you're right" he'd been wishing for, but the whole "I'll never know thing" still sounded like Sam was upset about it. Well, understandable, but Dean needed more than that.

"So what're you saying?"

"What I'm saying is. I get why you did it. You were just trying to make sure no one else got hurt." Dean nodded at that. It was true. "But here's the thing. You can't just look me in the face and tell me you're fine. I mean, you're not sleeping, you drink for the record-"

"Here we go." Now came the annoyed-wife-alcohol-speech. The one Sam kept trying to give Dean, and Dean's been avoiding, but now that Sam's the one holding the whole "I could stay if you hear me out" card, Dean was going to have to listen.

"Look, whatever, last one to preach, but I know. You should be honest with me. How are those the actions of someone who knows they did the right thing?"

"You want me to be honest?" Sam's _yeah_ sounded a lot more like "duh" then "yeah." "I went with my gut. And that felt right. I didn't trust her Sam. Course, ever since Cas, I've been having a hard time trusting anybody."

Dean's voice broke on the last word, and that almost destroyed him. He was not going to break down. He was not going to cry. No, no no.Sam's face flashed with an emotion, so quick Dean didn't even catch the emotion, just the flash. Dean hadn't wanted to say it, didn't want to admit it out loud. That Cas was the reason he was so messed up. That he couldn't get Cas out of his head, couldn't fully believe that his Castiel was dead. But Sam had a right to know. And more honestly, the words just slipped out.

"And as far as I've been acting." This suddenly felt very chick-flicky. And relationship-y. It felt like something a teenage girl would say to her boyfriend. "I dunno. Maybe it's cause I don't like lying to you. You know, it doesn't feel right. So here, you got me there. I've been climbing walls."

Dean wasn't looking quite at Sam. It was the least girly way for him to put it, but the truth of it was even worse than the fact that he had to say it.

"I know how that is." Dean nodded. They were good now. "But if I learned one thing from that museum, it's that sibling acts are tough." 

Dean stepped off the sidewalk, walking around to the driver's side of the trunk as he shook his head.

"Don't compare us to that hall of crazy."

Sam turned to look at him, and Dean reached out for Sam's arm, stupid grateful to be able to touch his brother again. Sam turned the rest of the way, holding still as Dean stepped closer. Dean tightened his grip on Sam's arm, needing the balance for when he stood on his tiptoes. Not that Sam ever needed to know that. On his tiptoes, Dean still wasn't quite tall enough, but he used his left hand to cup the back of Sam's head and bring it down to his. Dean pressed his lips up against Sam's, an apology and a thank you at the same time. Sam pressed back, his arms circling around Dean's waist. God, Dean had missed this. He had missed Sam. 

Dean finally pulled away, mostly because his calves were starting to burn from the whole tiptoes thing. That was something Dean needed to work on. 

Sam kept Dean circled in his arms for another moment, looking down at Dean with happy eyes. Dean smiled to the side, his guilty-but-extremely-happy smile. Then Sam was taking his appendages back and Dean took a step back too, his eyes following Sam as they walked to their respective car doors. Dean paused before he opened his, turning to face Sam.

"We're like poster kids of functional family life compared to them."

"Dean, I'm pretty sure incest is not considered functional family life."

"Hey, you're the reason I function, and you're my family, and my life." Dean paused outside his door. "Wow, damn that cheesy. And sappy. And let's just forget I ever said that."

Sam laughed, his adorable little what-am-i-gonna-do-with-you-Dean laugh. Dean could think of plenty of things Sam could do with him when they crashed in the next motel. And he was quite looking forward to it, they had a week and a half of lost time to make up for. Dean couldn't wait.


	75. Epicene (Time for a Wedding!  07x08)

"Shouldn't she have asked for my permission or something?" Dean was temper-tantruming. Sam just kind of snorted. Girls didn't ask for their husbands hands. Especially not to their brothers. Although maybe Dean was referring to the fact that they were more than just brothers- wait. No. Silly Dean.

"You want her to ask for my hand?" Sam tried to say it to make Dean realize how ridiculous he was sounding.

"How in the-" Dean stopped himself, still frantically looking about and unable to form words. If Sam didn't love Becky now, what Dean was doing would be pretty adorable. But of course, Becky was his adorable one now. Dean's face stretched in an extremely forced smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. Dean's crowsfeet were so obvious and beautiful and-Sam shook his head. Becky looked so glowy in that wedding dress. Becky.

"How did this happen?" It sounded accusatory, but Sam knew Dean at least deserved an explanation.

"Short version? We, we. We met. We ate. And then talked. And...fell in love. You know, here we are!" Sam looked over at Becky. She was so porcelain and epicene. Not at all like Dean, and his strong, callused hands. The hands that would run over Sam's skin, soothe him and care for him, the strong hands that guided him. And she didn't have Dean's green eyes either, that green that haunted Sam's every dream, the colour he subconsciously looked for everywhere, just hoping to find a leaf or a car or anything that Sam could take with him, always have that familiar colour around, even if Dean wasn't there. But...no. Not Dean. No, no, no. Sam did not marry Dean, Sam married Becky. His perfect, beautiful, glowing Becky.

"Yeah! I guess I'm all caught up." Dean was nodding, and those crowsfeet. BECKY. Sam forced himself to turn away from his brother. 

"That's- okay." Sam caught the change in voice. Dean was angry. "Ignoring _everything_ , have you forgotten the average lifespan of your hookups?"

Well, Sam never stayed with random girls long. He never needed to. He had Dean. But now he had Becky.

"Yeah, but-"

"But if anyone knows that, it's me!" Oh Becky was so smart. What a perfect answer. Now Dean'll surely understand. "I mean, I read _every_ book. So. Open eyes, you know? Open eyes."

Becky turned to Sam and he felt his world kind of haze around the edges, blurring everything out of his vision except Becky. And Dean. That was odd, normally _everyone_ got blurred. How did Dean not disappear too?

"I'm gonna be sick." Dean leaned against the column, looking up. A spark of instinctual jealousy shot through Sam. Dean used to look up every time he needed help. Look towards _Castiel_. Sam's anger was quickly faded as he felt Becky's thumb run over his hand. He was with _her_ now.

"Dean, look, it's simple. Something good's happening, I gotta jump on it. Now, today. Period." Dean pursed his lips and looked at Sam under his lashes.

"You weren't happy with-" Dean froze, realizing he was about to say something he shouldn't. Then he swallowed. "Okay, Dead Poet's Society, fine. Did you make sure she's even really-"

"Salt, holy water, silver, everything. See? Not a monster. Just the right girl for your brother." Becky just had a way with words. How romantically sweet.

"Ah." Dean looked like he was getting stabbed in the stomach. Poor Dean.

"That's it." Becky's voice sounded like...like...Sam was still trying to figure out a good analogy when a man walked over, holding out a black book.

"The bill." Sam turned to Becky, and the man disappeared. Sam was used to that by now, the entire world disappearing when he looked at her. Except he wasn't used to Dean not disappearing. That was still odd. Why was that?

"I got it." Becky took a hold of the black book, then reached over for her purse. Sam followed her with his eyes. She was just so glowy. "You two do your brother thing."

Sam's eyes followed Becky as she walked away, savouring the click of her white high heels on the church aisle. It was such a pleasant sound. And the way her dress draped over her so nicely, her veil billowing out-

"Really?? Superfan 99??" Dean was shouting. What if Becky heard and got upset? Sam put his hands up, in an effort to quiet Dean.

"Dean, look. Honestly, I had the exact same opinion of her as you do. But when we got passed the whole book thing, I found out that she's great, and _I_ was the dick."

"Yeah, you must be into the whole, uh, book thing. Becky randomly shows up during Vegas Week?" Dean didn't look convinced.

"Yeah!" What were the odds? Running into her on their one week off? It was destiny.

"Yeah." Dean's yeah was a lot less enthusiastic. More...suspicious.

"Okay, um. What are you trying to say?" Sam was not going to let Dean insult his wife like this.

"I'm saying maybe she knew you were gonna be here. Maybe uh, uh, _Chuck_ wrote about it."

"Dean, you're paranoid."

"And you're in LOVE? It's been four days, man. How long have you and I...we, uh. Sam, I thought. Don't we kind of have something? Aren't you, like, you know. Not available for the taking? I mean, you and I, it's been, what, almost two years? And like, four before that that were kind of topsy-turvy and not exactly-"

"I was in hell for more than half of those two years Dean. Besides, we were never official. Is that why you're so upset? You feel like I'm leaving you?"

"Newsflash Sam, you _are_. I didn't want to say anything in front of, of Becky, because of the whole brothers thing, but c'mon man. You and me. You're dumping me for some chick you just met? That's not. I mean, that's not you Sam."

"Maybe it's just not the me that you want to see, Dean. And Dean. You know what, how bout this. Becky and I are gonna go up to our place in Delaware. Um, why don't you try to wrap your dome around this, get a little supportive, then give us a call." Sam clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder, ignoring the ripple of muscle under his hand that used to be Sam's to touch. Sam turned on his heel and quickly walked in the other direction, towards Becky. He needed this time off just as much as Dean did. Dean being _right there_ was clouding his judgement and making him feel...strange. Sam needed some time to just think about Becky, be with Becky. Be his own person without Dean. 

Becky was doing something on her phone and Sam put his hand on her shoulder. It was cold, and soft, felt like his hand would slide off at any moment. She felt frail, but Sam loved her. He just needed a little time off from his old habits and everything would be fine. He was married now, he would be happy.

Right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Look man, uh." Sam cleared his throat. Thank goodness, it wasn't the only thing that was clear now. After Sam realized he was being roofied, everything had finally made since. And then, then they'd gotten the crossroads demon and Becky had signed divorce papers and Sam was finally okay. Thank god he was okay. "When I was all dosed up, I said some crap."

"Oh, you mean she. She wasn't your soulmate?"

Sam turned his gaze away from Dean, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sam knew his whole soulmate was alright, he'd found that out in heaven. Literally. So it was a pretty low swing for Dean to bring that up. Although it was pretty cute. Dean hadn't actually even mentioned that since they found out, and there was a part of Sam that thought Dean had forgotten. Apparently not. But he wouldn't embarrass Dean and ruin the good mood, so he said what he figured Dean wanted to hear.

"Shutup. I mean. I _do _need you (period. but again, he'd spare Dean the chick-flick moment) watching my back. I mean, obviously."__

__"Yeah, when, uh, crazy groupies attack." Sam craned his head back, looking up for a moment. Of course it was just like Dean to take that the wrong way. No, Sam needed him for everything. Sam needed Dean in order to wake up in the morning. Sam just needed him._ _

__"You know what I mean." Dean's silence was his answer. Dean did know. And Sam was damn glad he did._ _

__"I gotta say, man. For a whackjob, you really pulled it together." Dean turned to him, and Sam just stared for a moment, at the perfect green eyes and pouty pink mouth that Sam had almost given away forever._ _

__"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me." Dean turned away with a genuine smile on his face, and Sam couldn't help but snicker a laugh in return. He felt better right now, happier, than he had been in ages. Even in his fake cloud of happy with Becky._ _

"Look, don't be too impressed, man. It's still a Denver Scramble up here, I just got more wear on the plate now." 

"I'm just sayin'. It's stupid to think that you need me around all the time." It looked like it was a little painful to say those words. "I mean, you're a grownup."

Sam tilted his head to the side, acknowledging that. Sam was a grownup, and he should be able to function on his own. Thing was, he wasn't sure he could. He'd wanted to respond with "even if I don't need you all the time, I still _want_ you around all the time." But that felt like a lie too. Sam _did_ need Dean. Who was Sam without his brother beside him? But clearly, Dean thought they shouldn't have to need each other. Which meant Sam needed to start thinking that way too. It didn't feel good, but Sam nodded.

"Right."

"You're a hike-in-the-dessert-hippie-dousch grownup." Dean still wasn't letting that go, huh? Sam jumped on the change of mood though, glad to be back to the happy he'd had ten seconds ago.

"Dude, I was _camping_. _You_ camp!" Dean shot him a sly glance under his lashes before propping himself up off the car.

"Yeah, whatever hippie." The smile that accompanied that statement automatically induced a smile on Sam's face. Dean started to turn his shoulders to the car door, but Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's arm, pulling him back in Sam's direction. Dean swung around to face Sam, and Sam stayed seated, looking up at his older brother. Dean looked at Sam for a moment before he placed his palms on the car, one of each side of Sam. Sam still had his side smile on his face, mirrored by Dean's.

Then Dean leaned down, covering Sam's mouth with his. Sam parted his lips, tilting his head to the side and letting Dean take control. Dean pulled at Sam's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and closing his lips around it, possesively sucking at it. He left it alone only to alternate with smushing their mouths together. Sam felt like he hadn't kissed Dean in years, not like this, this sort of highschool-makeout kissing. Suddenly Sam couldn't keep his hands still, and they grabbed Dean's hips, pulling Dean closer to him as Sam made a space for him between his open knees. Dean moved his hands too, no longer straddling Sam's sides on the car, but cradling Sam's face. Dean turned Sam's head with his hands, manhandling him into a better angle. Sam let Dean kiss him, just kiss him, no tongue, teeth or otherwise, for quite some time. 

Then Sam slowly took back the reins, dragging his lips slowly across Dean's, pulling his mouth away. Once their lips parted, both of them gasped for air, their foreheads touching and leaning on each other. Dean's hands slid down to either sides of Sam's neck, his thumbs brushing across Sam's jaw. Sam tilted his head forward to place his lips on Dean's again, his lips closed but still shiny wet. Dean returned the close-mouthed kiss, which only lasted for a brief few seconds. After drawing in another breath, Sam straightened up and pulled himself back from Dean, watching as Dean slowly slid his eyes open to look at Sam. That always killed Sam, when Dean was so disoriented after kissing him that he had to take a moment with his eyes still closed. 

Sam smiled up at Dean, thinking it had been way too long since he smiled this much. Dean raised his eyebrows, but his mouth curved up into a side grin as well. Then he took a step backwards, out from in between Sam's knees and much too far away in Sam's opinion. But Sam stood anyways, taller than Dean again. Dean began to turn to his side of the car again, but Sam's thumb hooked into Dean's beltloop, spinning him around quickly and placing a last chaste kiss to his lips before pushing him back towards the driver's side. Dean pretended to make an annoyed face at Sam, but it was mostly just cute. Sam made his way around to the shotgun door, pausing just outside it, his eyes still on Dean's slightly swollen lips.

"You know what, though, seriously? Might be nice." Dean leaned his hand on the car's roof. He had one eyebrow up suggestively, but Sam continued on with what he figured Dean probably needed to hear.

"What?"

"I mean, you've basically been looking out for me my whole life. Now you finally get to. Take care of yourself." Sam didn't want the mood to go serious though, so he kind of huffed and added, "about time, huh?"

Then Sam opened his door, watching Dean's face drift into thinking land. 

"Yeah. Right." Sam was too caught up on checking the severity of his swollen lips in the car mirror to notice the unenthusiastic response. Or the dead look in Dean's eyes that said he kind of just got his entire purpose in life squished. So Sam just went back to the happy self he had been, not noticing how Dean's smile was a little bit faked. But then again, how often was it not?


	76. Flak (How to Win Friends And Influence Monsters 07x09)

"If I wasn't so chilled out right now, I would puke." Dean's face was oddly adorable, as much of an idiot as he looked like, over there nodding and pursing his lips together. Sam just nodded, his mouth in a tight line as he watched Dean shrug. 

"Why don't you take him into the next room, see if you can't sober it out of him with coffee or somethin." Bobby turned to Sam, gesturing at Dean's extremely drugged composure. Sam sighed, but stood and made his way over to Dean. "Imma see if I can find anything about gray goop and monsters in the lore."

"Good luck." Sam was pretty sure Bobby wouldn't find any lore about mysterious gray slime that oozed out of meat sandwiches. 

"No, good luck to _you_." Bobby kind of snickered after he said that, his eyes on Dean. Who was currently Koala-bearing Sam's chest. Sam kind of wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders, making a face at Bobby before dragging Dean along with him into the next room. 

There was a couch in this room, thank god, although it was a bit terrifying looking and probably would crush under the weight of, well, anyone. But Sam managed to pry Dean off of him, quickly shoving him on the ratty cushion before Dean could wrap his stupidly strong arms around Sam's torso again. The couch groaned and threatened to collapse, but managed not to. Sam moved to sit on the floor in front of it, but Dean suddenly made grabby hands at Sam. He looked like he was four, his face pleading like a puppy dog and his arms outstretched, fingers opening and closing on the air in front of Sam.

"Sammy!" Dean hiccuped. Sam put a hand on his forehead, sighing at the stoned man in front of him. It's a good thing Dean never went to college, because he would've ended up either stoned 24/7, or dead in a ditch due to alcohol consumption. But the look on his face was really lonely, and fairly adorable. Sam caved and moved over to the couch, carefully sitting down and wincing as it creaked with every inch he sunk onto it. Sam held his breath, but the half-shredded and mostly stain-covered cushions held both their weight. He breathed a sigh of relief, which was cut short by a sudden interception of a mouth plastered on his.

Sam didn't register for a couple of seconds, but the moment he realized that Dean's tongue should probably not be in his mouth, Sam tried to push him off. Dean was persistent though, pining Sam to the back of the couch and scraping his teeth along Sam's bottom lip. Sam got two hands on Dean's chest, shoving him upwards and away. Dean's body moved this time, although it wasn't like he had much of a choice. Sam managed to catch Dean's arm before he fell all the way backwards off the couch. Dean sat up, looking kind of dizzy.

"Dean, what the hell? You're gonna get me secondhand high." Dean stared at Sam for a moment, his mouth open slightly, then he started to giggle. Sam never thought he'd see Dean _giggle _at any point in his life. Ever.__

__"It's not like. It's not like it's _bad_ or anythin. You can, like. Think. Without aalll the other _stuff_ wavinn aroun in your head." Dean spoke with hand motions to emphasize, his hands swirling in circles in the air at "all the other stuff."_ _

__"I'm fine, thanks." Sam managed to avoid getting smacked by Dean's exaggerative hands, just barely, but decided he'd better prevent a crazy swinging Dean arm regardless. Sam reached out and took Dean's wrists, gently bringing Dean's hands into his lap. Dean looked down at his hands, and at Sam's fingers curled around his wrist. Dean wiggled his fingers, bending his wrist back forth obscenely. Finally he gave up on trying to escape that way, and settled for attempting to pry Sam's fingers off his opposite wrist. Dean's spiked hair dipped into Sam's vision and he had to lean his head back to avoid getting stabbed in the eye by a hairgelled weapon. Sam moved his head to the left, leaning down to see what exactly Dean had done to their hands._ _

__Dean apparently hadn't been trying to escape, because now his fingers were just interlaced with Sam's. Oh. Although since he hadn't been able to reach the coordinating hands with his own, Dean had settled for the oppostie ones, his arms crossed, and his left hand tangled up with Sam's left. Dean lifted his head now, a stupid smile on his face. Sam slowly slid his fingers out from in between Dean's, ignoring the whines of protest, and manually lifted one of Dean's arms, crossing it back over to it's normal position. Then Sam laced his fingers through Dean's again, this time with the correct hands. Dean's flak faded as he lifted their entwined hands, both sets of them, facing Sam and holding their hands up between them._ _

__"'Ow come you never hold my han' Sammy?"_ _

__Sam blinked at that, a little surprised. He'd never thought Dean would want him too. Dean wasn't exactly the relationship type, much less the romantic, public displays of affection type. Not to mention the fact that whatever they had between them was extremely secretive and not exactly legal. But explaining any of that to stoned Dean was going to be pointless._ _

__"You never hold mine, either."_ _

__Dean kind of recoiled at that, like he'd honestly never thought about it that way. He blinked a couple of times, looking at the hands still held up in the air between them. He twisted his face up, scrutinizing them, then slowly lowered them back into his lap. Dean just looked at Sam for a moment, analyzing him with new eyes. Sam patiently sat, partially amused and partially curious. Apparently, Sam's answer about the hand-holding had been sufficient enough for Dean, because he seemed to have forgotten all about their hands. Instead, he scooted back a little bit from Sam, adding about a foot of distance to the space between them. Sam had to lean forward to keep his arms from getting wrenched out of socket. He was about to say something to Dean, maybe apologize if he had offended him._ _

__Then Dean fell to the side, his head landing on Sam's thigh. Sam kind of jumped in surprise, but Dean was already scooting up a bit, moving to make his head rest right over Sam's crotch. Sam made a face, but stoned Dean didn't seem to notice or care. On his back, Dean looked even more childish and vulnerable. He just laid there in Sam's lap, looking up at him underneath girly lashes. Dean had all four of their hands clasped to his heart, and Sam could feel its rhythm, pulsing against the back of his right hand and the side of his left. Dean's eyes drifted closed, and for a moment, Sam thought maybe Dean would go to sleep and let all of this wear off._ _

__And then Dean's eyes shot back open, and so did his mouth._ _

__"Sammy?"_ _

__"Yeah, Dean?"_ _

__"I think I foun' a solu'ion to a pro'lem." Dean's words were still stone-slurred. But Sam understood him nonetheless. Sam sat in silence, waiting for Dean to continue._ _

__"You see, peo'le don' know that you're takin', an' den they go an' marry you, an' den they brin' crossrow demons, an' den Cwoley showsup, an' none of i's any good."_ _

__Sam managed to catch the majority of that, at least the taken, marry, and crossroads demon part. And maybe some sort of toddler-form of Crowley?_ _

__"So I foun' a solu'ion ta keepin' Cwoley an' da crossrow demons away."_ _

__"You found a way to dispel Crowley? And you're bringing it up _now_?" Sam wasn't entirely sure Dean knew what he was talking about, so he wasn't actually that concerned, but still. There were still a few brain cells left in Dean's head right now._ _

__"Mmmhmm. If you were takin', peo'le woul'nt marry you, so no mow crossrow demons an' no mow Cwoley. So you shoul' be my boyfrien'."_ _

__Sam sat for a moment, letting that sink in. He was pretty sure Dean might have just asked him out._ _

__"I've been givin' this a lo' o' thought Sammy an' it's de only way ta keep you safe from da demons an' Cwoley."_ _

__Sam couldn't help but smile at that. Even stoned Dean was trying to give a logical excuse to something he wanted that had to do with any sort of emotion._ _

__"You think so? You think being boyfriends would save me from Crowley?"_ _

__Dean nodded, very seriously, and Sam couldn't help but laugh. He kind of liked Dean being stoned, he was finding out all sorts of new things. Not that he'd want him to be stoned all the time, but the once was giving Sam a lot of new curious ideas. Sam was contemplating how to answer when he heard a soft snore. Sam looked back down to see Dean's eyes shut and mouth open, his body lax with sleep. Sam blinked in surprise. Dean was quick to sleep, but normally took more than a couple of seconds to knock out. It must have been partly due to the gray goop in the Turducken._ _

__Dean always looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. Sam untangled his right hand to slip it into Dean's hair, softly combing through the spikes. Dean's mouth plopped shut, curving into a slight smile for a moment. Hopefully, the sleep would fix him. If not quite yet, Sam was fine with that too._ _

__A knock on the wall made Sam look up from his lap. It was probably Bobby, not wanting to come into the room until he knew it was "safe."_ _

__"You're good!" Sam kind of whisper-shouted. Bobby heard it though, and stepped inside the doorless doorway. He took in the sight of Dean sprawled out on the couch, head in Sam's lap with one of Sam's hands in Dean's hair and Dean's hands holding Sam's other hand over Dean's heart. Bobby kind of snorted, but didn't make a comment other than that. And raised eyebrows._ _

__"Sleepin seemin to work?" Bobby did the closest thing he could to a whisper, which was definitely still not a whisper, but did manage to not wake up Dean._ _

__"I don't know yet. It might."_ _

__"Well bring him out to the van, he can sleep there. We gotta go check this thing out."_ _

__Sam nodded, looking down at Dean sleeping in his lap and unable to hold back an affectionate smile._ _

__"Oh, you're making me sick to my stomach. Just get him in the car, ya love chicken."_ _

__Sam slipped his hand out from in between Dean's, not missing the soft whimper that came with. He slid his arm under Dean's knees, his right one braced under Dean's shoulders. Sam somehow found an angle that allowed him to stand up off the couch with Dean in his arms. It probably would've been easier to get off the couch, and then pick Dean up, but that might wake him. So Sam stumbled his way upright, only jostling Dean a bit._ _

__Dean curled his head into Sam's chest, shifting his body to face inwards. Sam carefully made his way across the room, mostly wary for stepping on exposed rusty nails or something. But they made it out of the house safely, Sam having to turn sideways through all of the doors. Bobby was already out in the van, but he came and opened the sliding van door for Sam._ _

__Sam set Dean down carefully, putting him in the seat exactly the way Dean liked to sleep in cars, then carefully propped his head against the window. The whole process was done in a minute, then Sam backed out of the van and straightened up._ _

__Bobby was staring at him, and Sam furrowed his brow, returning the eye contact._ _

__"What?"_ _

__"Nothin. Just, you two. I swear, you'll be the death of me."_ _

__Sam got in shotgun with a smile on his face and no idea of how true that statement was going to be._ _


	77. Antebrachial (Death's Door  07x10)

"Can I talk to you?" Sam sidestepped Dean and started walking towards a less crowded part of the room. Dean was pretty sure they were talking like this entire time, but hey, whatever, he'll follow Sam.

"What?" Sam stopped and turned around, this pitiful expression all over his face. "Talk about what?"

Dean was watching Sam with his brow creased, trying to figure out what could be important enough to have to talk about away from the hospital staff. Sam pursed his lips and Dean automatically looked down, his eyes flicking to them temporarily as Sam's tongue darted out to wet them. Dean observed this, but it was just an observation, same as how Dean had noticed that Sam's dimples held as permanent lines when his face was drawn and sad. There was no excitement or anything. Now wasn't the time.

Sam shuffled on his feet, shifting his weight back and forth. It was another tell of Sam's, like an automated response to his own internal dialogue. The shifting was actually a fighting maneuver, which meant that Sam was anticipating a fight subconsciously. Which meant this was pretty damn serious.

"You know what." Dean's gaze shifted from Sam's right eye to his left, reading as much as he could off of his brother, since Sam didn't tell him with words. Dean wondered for a split second in some vacant corner of his mind if there were other people out there that had conversations like this. Where they knew each other well enough to be able to talk without words. And not hand signals or anything either, just simple facial expressions carrying out an entire conversation. And a very serious one. Dean studied Sam's face, and. _Oh._

"No, we're not having that conversation." Dean leaned away from Sam, unaware but trying to get out of the conversation.

"Well we need to."

"He's not gonna die."

"He might."

"SAM."

"Dean, listen." It wasn't often that Dean's _"SAM."_ didn't work. But a persistent _"Deam,"_ followed it this time without hesitation. Dean was silent now, mostly out of surprise at Sam's refusal to listen and his sudden outburst. And Sam's hand had latched onto Dean's wrist at his words. Which seemed to have a mysterious calming effect that Dean wasn't quite sure why. 

"We need to brace ourselves." There went Dean's temporary calm.

"WHY?"

"Because it's real." Sam's thumb was running soothing lines across the inside of Dean's wrist, slipped underneath Dean's shirt and jacket to gently drag back and forth against his skin. Dean just looked at Sam, looked at his little brother, somehow strong and towering and comforting over him.

"What do you wanna do? You wanna hug and say we made it through it when Dad died?" It was cold, Dean knew it was, but this was _Bobby_ they were talking about.

"Dean. You didn't have me here for you when Dad died. It was before I could do anything to help." Sam's voice was soft, almost pleading. Dean couldn't do this, couldn't let Sa, baby him before Sam ever even had a reason to.

"We've been through enough." Their lives, their family, their relationship. All of it. They, as a whole, Sam and Dean, had been through enough. They've fought through enough, given enough, had more than enough taken from then. They didn't need the last family they had alive to be dead. 

Then Dean was going, sidestepping Sam, who instinctively turned his shoulder to let Dean through. Dean kept walking, but when he reached the glass door he stopped and turned to Sam. Sam was standing, facing him, watching him. Sam had probably been analyzing Dean's stride, determining if he was just upset, or about to do something stupid. Or if he was mad at the world, or taking this out on Sam for trying to help.

Dean paused and looked at Sam, for once taking some of his mask down and letting the pain show on his face. He wasn't mad at Sam, no, he was just mad. Sam's shoulders visibly relaxed a little, but his expression of worry didn't go away. Dean turned back towards the door, using the antebrachial part of his arm to push it open. He walked along the glass corridor, not looking at Sam through the window, but staring straight ahead. Sam only watched him for a little bit before Dean felt Sam's eyes leave.

Dean wasn't sure what he was going to do right now, but let Sam hug him was definitely not on the list. Hugging people was like slamming Thor's fist into the Hoover Dam. It was a proven fact, hugging releases your emotions, starts flooding in all the tears. And crying was something Dean did _not_ want to do. So he was going to avoid any hug at all costs. Sam was probably not going to give him a choice eventually, but for now, Dean would keep what little sanity he had left.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Last memory, huh?" The Reaper nodded minutely. Bobby returned the nod, eyes glancing towards the doorway.

"Glad I saved the best for last." Then Bobby turned into his living room, two beers in hand. 

Dean was moving to sit on the couch, where Sam was grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"Hey, scoot jerkface, show your elders some respect." Dean sunk onto the cushion next to Sam, their hips and thighs touching even though there was extra room on either side of both of them. Sam had popcorn in his mouth, so his next words came out a little funny sounding as he made a face at his older brother.

"You scoot, asshat." Sam took his handful of popcorn and threw it up onto Dean's lap. Dean just scooted his leg to avoid the majority of it, playfully backhanding Sam's thigh as a response. Sam didn't continue the battle, due to Bobby walking in front of them, holding out two beers in one of his hands. Sam looked up, a smile on his face as he took one for each of them with an appreciative hum. Sam sat Dean's down on the crowded coffee table in front of him as Dean rummaged through a convenience store plastic bag. Sam flat-palmed another handful of popcorn in that peculiar half-thrown way that Bobby never understood was possible and Dean always teased him for. Dean looked up, eyes darting from Sam's open mouth up to his eyes, then back to the bag.

"Did we get licorice?" Bobby sat down, his eyes still trained on the boys. Dean said it accusingly towards Sam, and Sam's response was even more full of popcorn this time. The movie/show hadn't even started yet and Sam had managed to eat a quarter of the bowl of popcorn already.

"No, we did not get licorice. We got good snacks. Licorice is disgusting." Dean stopped rummaging through the bag, lowering it to turn all of his attention to Sam.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite understand that, Mr. Peanut-butter and _Banana_ sandwiches?" Sam was undaunted by Dean's sass, and just batted Dean's insistent hand out of the air that he was using to emphasize his point. Dean batted at Sam's hand back, and Sam closed his larger fingers over Dean's, trapping Dean's hand and pinning it to Sam's knee. Dean made a face at Sam, trying to wiggle his hand free.

"You know what, I stand by that sandwich. _Nobody_ likes licorice, it's made of dirt." Sam brought his hand up again on "dirt", using his hands to talk now, so Dean's hand escaped and returned back to Dean's side of the argument. Bobby couldn't help himself, a sad smile started to creep across his face.

"It is a _classic_ movie food, it's right up there with popcorn." Dean's hand made a very exaggerated point at the popcorn as he said it. Dean's torso was twisted to the side, as was Sam's, and they were both fully facing each other now. The amount of love in their eyes as they argued was practically painful to watch.

"Popcorn?!?"

"Yes!"

"You're out of your mind." Dean did a double take and looked from the popcorn back to Sam, lifting his hands as though he was holding little pieces of licorice. They were full on shouting at each other now, but every word they said felt more like flirting than an argument.

"What? It's like little chewy pieces of heaven!" The boys started to fade, turning from normal to opaque to glowy to gone. Bobby still heard Sam's voice echo in response to Dean.

"Oh, chewy pieces of heaven if you're a girl." Then they were gone. His boys, they were gone. Just an empty couch where they used to sit and argue, where they stitched each other up, where they fell asleep with heads on each other's laps. Those two boys had loved each other more than anyone else Bobby had ever known. Bobby had been there for every single step of it.

He could remember first meeting the boys, when Dean was six and Sam was two. He remembered thinking that the little one (funny to ever think of Sam as the little one) was going to end up being alright, because he had a guardian angel who followed around his every footstep. Dean was there to catch Sam's every stumble, and it stayed that way too, for years. Once Sam could safely walk on his own, when he was about four, he started following Dean around. Dean was his universe and Sam wanted nothing more than to catch every moment of it. 

He could remember Dean knowing about the job before Sam, Dean becoming solemn and serious and even more protective of his little brother. Then one day John dropped them off, and Sam knew too. He practically clung to Dean, knowing about monsters now, he was seemingly planning to never let Dean out of his sight. Then there were the teens, where they both pretended they wanted other friends for a little while, but they couldn't stay apart for long, and ended up always coming back to each other. Dean would make excuses for why he and Sam had to share a room, make excuses for why they had to talk at school every day.

He could remember when Sam left for California, could remember the shell of a person that was Dean Winchester. Bobby was fairly sure that's when Dean first realized just how much he did love Sam. You could see it in his eyes, how heartbroken he was. Then one day, years later, Dean showed up at his door, little brother in tow. They were still attached at the hip, but warily so. Kept shooting each other glances when the other one wasn't looking. Then Bobby started seeing them again regularly, got to watch them fall for each other. There was never a moment he thought it was wrong, it was really common back in ancient times, and most of Bobby's life was based on shit that happen in ancient times, so it was fine with him. 

He could remember Dean selling his soul, and Dean screaming when Sam died. He could remember the silent rage of the youngest Winchester when Dean's time was up and he was ripped to shreds. He remembered holding Sam back from trying to kill Dean when Dean showed up alive, then the most bonding hug Bobby had ever seen. He watched them fight, argue, hug, and once or twice, saw them kiss as though it was a sin. They freed Lucifer, made friends with angels, and fought their destinies as vessels together. Bobby watched Dean throw his life away as he got into his car to drive to Kansas, to meet Lucifer in Sam's body. He remembered hugging Dean goodbye, watching him leave for a year. 

He could remember Dean trying not to fall back in love with the soulless Sam, so confused and broken. And Bobby and was sitting at his desk to watch the reunion of the normal Sam and his Dean. He watched them fight Leviathans, fight Godstiel, fight each other and their hearts, and mostly, he watched them love each other more than everything in the world.

And somehow, with all of the passion they had for each other, both of them managed to spare some of that love and give it to Bobby. They both did love him, both considered him family. Family was everything to the Winchesters, and to be a Winchester was probably the greatest honour Bobby ever got. He got to witness, influence, and be family with the love that saved the world. He was part of what shaped those boys into the incredible men they were today. They had needed him, and honestly, Bobby was pretty sure they needed him still.

And so. So Bobby would be there for them. The Winchester's story wasn't over, and Bobby couldn't miss the most vital part. 

He had to stay.


	78. Turmoil (Adventures in Babysitting  07x11)

"Dean!" Dean and Sam both turned around at the call. Krissy was coming out of the hospital, her voice loud and so young. 

"Thanks for saying bye, asshat." Dean turned to Sam and Sam gave him a slight nod. They both turned in case there was a need of danger, in case Dean had been in danger. But once Sam assessed it was safe, he started for the car. On his way over a flash of the word _codependency_ crossed his mind, but he shook it off.

"Oh, what, now you're sentimental?" 

"No," Krissy said. "Just wanted to tell you that you're kind of amusing for an old man." 

Dean couldn't help but smile at that. Compared to her, he supposed he was. Krissy may be trouble, but she was also pretty kick-ass. 

They chatted for a bit, about the case, about how Krissy was trouble. Then came the line Dean had been praying for. 

"So, guess I'm retiring. One and done." She looked smug, as always, and a little relieved.

"Really?" So their talk with her father had worked. Thank god. Krissy blinked and nodded a bit. Dean was pretty sure he already knew how she felt, probably a little disappointed to be missing adventure and an exciting life, but kind of relieved she actually got a have a life. But he figured he'd ask her regardless. "How do you feel about that?"

"Who knows?" She tilted her head to the side, hiding a bit of her disappointment. "Maybe I'll go to Stanford like Sam."

Dean smiled a bit at that. She certainly knew where to swing.

"Speaking of Sam. I know you said you guys aren't boyfriends, but it's pretty damn obvious you're crushing on him."

"Crushing on him?" Krissy rolled her eyes at Dean as he made fun of her girly vocabulary. 

"You should just ask him out already, pansy." She was wearing that look that made it seem like she was looking down at Dean, even though she was like two feet shorter than he was. It was quite an interesting look. Dean turned back and looked at Sam for a moment, his hands clasped together on the hood of the car, looking at Dean with content eyes. Dean turned back to Krissy, raising his eyebrows.

"You really think so?"

"Couse I do, asshat." Krissy lifted her arm, and Dean was expecting a playful arm punch, but instead she held it out in front of her. Dean looked at her for a moment, then he grinned and met her fist with his. They held the bump for a moment, until Krissy broke the silence.

"We're so lame." Every word reflected their new friendship and the genuine smile on both of their faces.

"Yeah we are," Dean agreed readily. "Take care of yourself."

Krissy just smiled and Dean turned back to his brother, taking long strides to reach him. Sam unfolded his hands and took a step back, his hand reaching for the car door. Maybe Krissy was right. Maybe Sam did deserve to be more than just Dean's unofficial partner. Sam deserved a boyfriend. Dean kind of chuckled to himself at that. He never would of thought he'd be thinking those words anytime in the future. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Good for them."

"Yeah. It's nice to walk away from someone and think they're gonna be okay. Bout you? How you doin?" Dean looked over, turned to Sam, doing a quick physical scan before interpreting the expression on his face. Maybe Dean had asked his question a little rushed, a little too worried-sounding. Maybe Sam would hear and wonder what turmoil was going on in Dean's head. But Dean couldn't help it, and he even added a third, even more concerned-boyfriend sounding, "You alright?"

"No, I'm definitely not. But, I, uh, you know, maybe..." Maybe I just need a good long shower with you and to fall asleep together, wrapped up in each others arms? Maybe I just need a few days vacation, just some motel room, you and me, nothing to do but each other? Maybe? 

"Maybe I just wanna work." Wow, okay, so Dean's thoughts had all been 100% off. Sam had just said the exact opposite of every "maybe" that had run through Dean's head. Dean looked over at Sam for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. Well, there went his plan. If Sam had mentioned something about them at all, Dean was planning on bringing up the idea Krissy had mentioned. Maybe at least to talk about. Dean had accidentally mentioned it once before, when he was high of off Turducken, but they hadn't talked about it since. They might've, if Bobby hadn't had died. If the entire world hadn't had fallen apart.

"Should I even ask?" Dean looked over at Sam. The grimace on Sam's face clearly indicated he was talking about if Dean was okay, not about asking Dean anything else. Like being his boyfriend. Dean was oddly disappointed.

"I'm fine."

"Fine, meaning..." 

Meaning Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. But Dean was just gonna stick with the acronym. Just fine.

"You're right, we should just. Work." Dean looked over again. "Right? Figure out a way to kick Dick Roman's ass? Oh, hey, we are the professionals."

Sam didn't respond, just reached forward and clicked on the music player. _Traffic_ started playing through, the soft rock chords of Dear Mr. Fantasy. Sam scooted in his seat, curling his long legs and leaning his head against the window. Dean glanced at the road, nothing but a dark, lonely straight-shot ahead, before he turned his gaze on Sam. He watched him for a few seconds, Dean's face unsmiling but still a little pleased to see Sam sleep. It took him back to the old days, when they used to hunt so carefree, one falling asleep in the car while the other secretly watched him, trading glances between the pavement and their peaceful sleeping brother. 

Content that Sam was comfortable, Dean turned back to the asphalt. This song. All of his emotions were racing through him at once, Frank's voice telling him to smile and bury it all, flashbacks of almost losing Sam today, the fear of endangering Krissy, Krissy's little snide mark about him making if official with Sam, Dad's voice telling him to toughen up, soldier. All of it.

_Dear Mister Fantasy, play us a tune. Something to make us all happy._


	79. Saggital (Time After Time 07x12)

"Tell you the truth, I don't know why I'm doin much of anything anymore." Dean's gaze was fixed in the distance, his own words seeming airy to him. He was definitely not expecting Elliot's response.

"Boo hoo, cry me a river you Nancy. Are all hunters as soft as you in the future? Everybody loses everybody, then one day, boom, your number's up. But at least you're makin a difference. So enjoy it while it lasts kid, cause hunting's the only clarity you're gonna find in this life."

Dean kind of sat in a silent shock for a moment. Soft. Dean was a lot of things, but he never thought he'd be called _soft_. Then Elliot turned to him again, his voice not quite as rough, but still in advice-mode. 

"You know what your problem is kid? You hunt like you have something to lose. Like you're saving your prized face for a girl back home. You gotta girl cooking supper for you somewhere in the future?" 

The corner of Dean's mouth curled up. Sam, cooking dinner. That was a joke. 

"Cause the way it works here, you can't afford trivialities like love. It's too dangerous for your girl, how is she ever gonna protect herself if something comes after her? Does she even know you're in the life?"

Dean kind of cleared his throat. He wasn't quite sure how to explain this one to Elliot. His eyes shifted a bit, side to side, trying to figure out how to answer this. 

"Sam, uh. Sam's a hunter too." Elliot reeled back at that. He looked at Dean with incredulous eyes.

"You let a girl hunt? You sick, entitled son of a bitch. Girls don't hunt, girls should never hunt. It's dangerous as hell, and you brought your woman into this because you were being selfish and stupid."

Elliot kind of spit the last words out, then he uncapped his flask and tipped it back. After thanking as swig of the alcohol, Elliot turned back to the window, looking out at the god, who was still sitting in the diner. Dean let the car's silence weigh down for a bit before he decided he'd say something. Elliot wasn't from a time period as open-minded as Dean's, and Dean's was far from reasonable and accepting. But hey, maybe being gay was better than poorly treating a woman. Dean would never know until he said something. 

"Uh. Sam. Sam's not a girl." Dean put as much fake confidence in his last declaration, like he wasn't ashamed of it. And he wasn't. Although from the way Elliot looked at him, Dean almost regretted saying anything in the first place. Elliot looked at him like he was scutinizing him, searing a saggital cut through Dean's body with his eyes. 

"Well that explains the softness."

Dean kind of huffed at that. Sam may be his weak spot, but loving Sam made Dean stronger than he'd ever been before. 

"I mean, I guess I could tell you you're going to hell, but you're a hunter, so you already know plenty about the place. If you know about hell, and you chose to still lie with another man, then there's nothing I can say."

Dean fought the urge to snicker. Elliot had no idea how much Dean knew about hell. And he also knew you didn't go there explicitly for being gay. There was no dark, firey tunnel with a rainbow sign pointing out "Queers that way". Hell, Dean was pretty sure the king of hell didn't even know there was such thing as gay, Crowley made a kiss deal with anyone. 

"But I won't judge you on what you do behind closed doors, just don't let it affect your hunting, hear? Cause I can't have you going all puppy dog soft on me in the middle of firing a bullet."

"Puppy dog soft isn't going to be a problem. I won't let you down."

Elliot nodded, taking another swig from his flask. 

"Well, you've got someone out looking for you, at least. That makes you luckier than most." 

The door to the diner swung open, and a beautiful woman in a red dress emerged, walking down the steps and crossing in front of their car. They both followed her with their eyes down into the alleyway. 

"Hello, nurse." Elliot opened his car door, stooping his head to swing outside. "I'd call dibs, but I don't think I'll be getting any competition from you."

Dean rolled his eyes, but opened his door as well, joining Elliot to follow Kronos who had just fallen behind the girl. Elliot had taken it better than Dean thought he would, and Dean never would have said anything if Elliot hasn't had brought it up in th first place. Elliot was still the hard, vintage hunter he always was. And he was still Elliot freakin Ness. So, either way, Dean couldn't wait to brag to Sammy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Sam turned around, Dean looked up at him underneath his lashes. There was silence for a moment as Sam forgot how to breathe, then he opened up his mouth, using words to cut through the thick rope of sexual tension in his stomach. 

"I gotta admit. Pretty cool trick with the note." Sam wasn't bashful often, but then again, he didn't compliment Dean very often either. Sam's eyes were jumpy, looking down at his hands, over at the window, anywhere besides where they kept flighting back to. Dean had time jumped again, and looked straight out of the forties. His hair was slicked down, and while Sam normally adored Dean's soft spikes, the change was enticing. Not to mention the blue suit. And the way Dean wore it. Like it was custom tailored to him. Knowing the way Dean could play his gorgeous features it probably was.

"Oh, yeah, well, you know," Dean tapped the top of his can and tilted his head a bit to the side, like he was fully aware of how gorgeous he looked. His mouth curved up in a side smile, and he took a few absent-minded steps to the left, rolling his soda can between experienced fingers. Sam gave up trying not to stare, his eyes were trapped between Dean's hands, and his mouth, and his eyes, and the way his blue suit accented his sloping shoulders, which Sam knew were rounded and freckled underneath all of those layers. 

"When you're working with Elliot freaking Ness-" Dean popped open the can, letting the sound resonate and emphasize his previous words. "You learn a thing or two."

Sam tried very hard to pretend he didn't want to cross the room in a stride and sweep Dean's coke away from his mouth, replace the way Dean's lips puckered around the cold metal with something much warmer, like Sam's mouth. 

"Alright, but he did _not_ call you untouchable." Sam had his hands stuffed in his pockets. Entirely necessary to not pounce on Dean. Dean kept that damn teasing smirk on his face, the one that was sending all sorts of signals to Sam's brain. The downstairs one. 

"Ohh. Oh yeah. And uh, jealousy is a _bad_ colour on you, bro." Dean smiled at the end of that, and Sam ducked his head, trying to hide the shameful grin on his face. He turned his head to the side and scoffed, not really able to deny anything Dean was throwing at him. He glanced back towards Dean, Sam's tongue running slightly over his lips, which was followed by dark, lust filled green eyes. Sam looked up at Dean from underneath his lashes, their eyes locking in a hot smoulder that made Dean blush and look down. 

Dean brought the drink to his lips again, and Sam watched as the moisture from the can condensated on Dean's fingers, and on his bottom lip. This much sexual tension was going to be the death of Sam. 

"You know, I can't exactly be jealous of you hunting with attractive men, not if you're not, you know." Sam took a step towards Dean, watching Dean lower the can and watch him. Sam let his mouth curl up dangerously at his next words. "Actually my boyfriend."

Dean raised his eyebrows, before looking down to hide his expression. When he looked back up, his mouth was smiling, but his eyes looked a little turmoiled. If Sam didn't know better, he'd say it was fear. But he did know better, so he'd do what he could to ignore it. 

"That's a discussion for another time, after I get all of this damn gell out of my hair. So, uh, why don't you go grab us another sixers, some fries, and a new case. Preferably one in this time period." Sam didn't usually take orders from Dean, but the guy had just time jumped twice in the past day, and that did a number on a person. So he huffed a laugh atDean's lame time comment and turned away, pretending not to notice how Dean was still avoiding the conversation about dating. It wasn't a big deal, and Sam hadn't even taught about it til Dean brought it up the one time. But now he couldn't stop thinking about it. 

"I got it." Dean looked at Sam, his lips slightly parted, and nodded. He heard Sam right, had picked up on the fact that Sam was talking about both subjects. Sam nodded back, giving Dean the time he needed. He stared just a bit too long, then turned on his heel to go get food. He'd get Dean's favorite, and he'd even try to keep the unhealthy comments to a minimum. Well, maybe. There was only so much a guy could do.


	80. Portentous (The Slice Girls  07x13)

As Dean made his way to the bar, he wasn't thinking about the case at all. The civilians probably did know something, but Dean didn't particularly care. I mean, he cared about the guy getting ripped to shreds, sure. But there were much more important things on his mind right now. Like Sam. 

After Dean had gotten back the 1947 or whatever, Sam had mentioned the boyfriend thing. Dean had frozen, temporarily terrified. He had thought for a split second that Sam was about to ask him out. Thankfully, he hadn't. For one thing, that would've made Dean the girl. And, more importantly (kind of), Dean needed to think this through first. Dating, that was serious business. 

Dean wasn't quite sure why it scared him so much. I mean, he and Sam were already fucking, and it wasn't like they hadn't gotten past the whole brother thing. They'd passed both of those years ago. Maybe it was the commitment. Being in a relationship meant no more flings, no more checking out the waitress. Well, mostly on the checking out part. Dean was still a guy, after all. And the fling thing wouldn't be difficult either. The last chick he'd hooked up with had been, what. Jamie? No, he hadn't even hooked up with her. Anna? There had to have been someone past that. Oh. Lisa. That wasn't exactly a fling, but that was long since gone. So it'd been like, two years since he'd been with anyone but Sam. Kisses, sure. Hell, that old lady in 1947 had kissed him. That was less than a week ago. But they both got kissed a bit. That was part of the job.

So maybe it was just the idea of dating in general that freaked him out. Dean had already died for Sam, and was planning on not leaving anytime soon, if ever. But the whole idea seemed portentous. It felt like it was the apocalypse all over again. Dean still couldn't figure out why it felt like such a big deal, it just. Did. 

Maybe he was scared he'd be a sucky boyfriend? If Dean didn't think Dean would make a good boyfriend, how in the world would _Sam_ think he'd be a good boyfriend? Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe it was all a bad, crazy, no good, insane idea that had evolved out of gray goo stuffed into Dean's brain, thanks to Dick Roman. 

How was he supposed to know? Dean needed some kind of sign. There had to be some kind of sign. He'd look for one. And he needed to make sure of one other thing, too. Before Dean committed to this thing, he had to know a few things. And if he ended up with Sam from this point forward, Dean was not going to have his last memories with a woman be depressing, Lisa ones. Dean knew the first thing he had to do. First things first, pick up a girl. Then, he just had to see how the night went. And look for a sign.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean fumbled with his key in the motel room door. The lock too way too long to turn, but he eventually swung open the door. Light flooded in behind him, spilling into the room and illuminating everything with the soft golden glow of the motel's outside floodlights. Dean's eyes trailed over the room, stopping as they reached the tangled sheets of the farther bed. 

Sam's hair reflected the glow of the orange floodlights, the disheveled strands spread on the pillow in an angelic halo framing his little brother's peaceful face. There was a bit of leftover tension in Sam's shoulders, like he was worried a little in the silence of his sleep. The sheet was tucked up under Sam's arms, his fist curled loosely around the material that was always rougher than Dean wanted Sam to be able to sleep on. Dean could see the outline of Sam's memorized body under the sheets, the curved line of his ribs and where the sheet tucked over his hip. Sam's long legs were curled, facing the door, facing Dean, like he had been waiting for him before he had fallen asleep.

Dean just stood, just looked. All of his post-sex disorientation and his extreme tiredness had slipped away, all of his senses filled with how beautiful and perfect Sam looked, asleep in the bed they shared, waiting for Dean despite Dean's activities of the night. If Dean was a sentimental person, he would acknowledge the moisture that had gathered at the corners of his eyes. But he ignored it, focusing entirely on absorbing this moment, to keep with him forever. If he was ever dragged from Sam by hellhounds, or Sam was ever ripped away from Dean's abiding grasp on him, Dean knew this was a moment no one could take away from him. Here, this right now, the beauty and simplicity of everything that was here. 

With the image stained into his brain now, Dean was content to take another step forward, close the door behind him and trap the room back in darkness. Dean squeezed his eyes shut just before the last sliver of light disappeared, then opened them again to darkness, his eyes already half adjusted to the black room. A tiny slice of moonlight slid through a crack in the blinds, just enough to light Dean's way to Sam. As much as he longed to just cross the room and pull that perfect human into his arms, Dean had a few things he should take care of first. Like showering. Dean crept as quietly as he could into the bathroom, closing the door behind him entirely before he turned on the bathroom light. 

He shed his clothes without ceremony, stepping into the water, which was warm enough but not hot enough to make Dean long to stay in it long. He had more important things to tend to. But he scrubbed himself clean first, wanting the remnannts of his earlier night gone. He hasn't had a horrible time, the girl was actually better than a lot of girls Dean had taken to bed. She had a ton of stamina, not to mention she was dominant enough to not let Dean get bored. She just wasn't. Well. She wasn't Sam. Dean had gone all out, doing all of his favorite positions and even a new one she introduced. It was fun, and he'd been pleased with the experience, but the warm feeling of perfection and completeness that Dean was used to feeling after sex wasn't there. 

It wasn't just that, Dean couldn't help but miss a ton of little things, things about Sam, just Sam in general. The sex had meant nothing, as opposed to consuming Dean's everything. Sam had always been Dean's everything, and sex with Sam didn't replace that, just added to it. Sam was the sun, and Dean would rather burn alive every day from the proximal distance than he would be with someone else and be safe from the searing heat. 

Dean hadn't had his sign yet, but he did realize that as much as he thought he had missed boobs, they didn't make up entirely for the lack of Sam's gentle and encompassing hands, the ab muscle pressed up against Dean, the hard lines of someone's body bigger than his. Yeah, Dean was pretty sure he'd be okay if he didn't sleep with a girl again. There was always a certain Asian porn site if Dean needed some femininity to jack off to.

Dean turned off the water, grabbing the towel and patting himself dry in a way that was actually pretty efficient, despite how fast it was. Then it was Dean's closed eyes routine as he turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the bedroom. His duffel was close by, thankfully, and it took him less than a minute to slip into boxers and a tshirt. Then he was making his way towards Sam, climbing onto the opposite side of the bed by the silver light that shone a few stripes across the sheets. Finally, Dean reached out for that familiar waist, wrapping his arms around Sam, around the only one he'd been thinking of all night. Sam shifted a little in his sleep, scooting back a little as he did, his spine flush to Dean's chest as he slid into place like a puzzle piece. Dean dipped his head down to breathe in the warmth and extremely _Sam_ smelling hair. Sam made a contented sound in his sleep, then the tension in his shoulders slipped away, leaving him soft and compliant in Dean's arms. There was nowhere Dean would rather be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dean was pretty sure there was no sign that screamed louder than "evil monster bitch gets pregnant with a child who tries to kill you." He'd needed a sign, and well, that's probably the biggest, most obvious sign that could possibly have been. Hell, at first, he'd taken her elusive rejection the morning after as a sign, he clearly had no idea what was coming. Although Sam certainly had gotten a kick out of Dean's rejection. He'd been teasing Dean about it, about her, nonstop, just like they did in the first couple of years after Dean had gotten Sam at Stanford. 

Dean had been a bit surprised at Sam's nonchalance at the whole occasion. (Well, before it turned into the case). Sam had been smiling, laughing, teasing Dean about it. And just when Dean thought he couldn't love Sam anymore. 

Even if Sam had pulled an evil line just before Emma had come over. Sam was getting into the Impala to go talk to the wacko Doctor about translating that one page, and Dean had walked him out to the car. Since Sam was forcing him to stay behind. 

Dean had opened up Sam's door for him, leaning against the roof to block Sam from getting in. Sam took a step closer, and Dean didn't move, just looked up at Sam under his lashes. Not that he'd ever admit he was doing that, but hey, if it worked, it worked. Sam had raised his eyebrow like he had no idea what Dean wanted, which of course he knew, so Dean huffed and got up on his tiptoes, leaning forwards to attempt to get Sam's lips on his own. Sam leaned backward, which caused Dean to stumble forward, only stopping due to a big hand that splayed across his sternum, holding him upright and in place. 

"Woah woah woah, I'm not gonna put my mouth where some freak monster has been." Dean's jaw dropped.

"Are you kidding me Sam? Mr. I Only Ever Hook Up With Monsters. Do you see _me_ complaining?"

"Yes," Sam said, his voice like 98% sass.

Dean made a face, partially annoyed, partially affectionate. Sam laughed at Dean's face, and Dean was about to make another bitching remark when Sam's mouth closed over his. Dean's eyes slid shut and he kind of melted, the only things keeping him upright being the Impala's frame on his shoulder blades and one of Sam's huge hands propped possessively on Dean lower back. 

Sam pulled away much too soon, and Dean's mouth chased Sam's for a moment before he realized and opened his eyes. Sam was looking at him, affection swimming in his hazel eyes. Dean collected himself and placed a hand on Baby's roof, hoisting himself back up to standing straight. 

"No wonder she picked you, you're easy as pie."

That response could only really be answered with a punch to the shoulder. Sam laughed and side stepped a bit, in case another one was coming. It wasn't. 

"Shut up. And pie is a good thing. A great thing. Hell, you wish you were pie I bet you wish it every-"

Dean was once again interrupted by Sam's mouth on his own. This one was close-mouthed too, and short, just longer than a peck. Dean blinked a few times as Sam pulled away. 

"Don't leave the motel, okay? Or I'll kick your ass."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, go talk to Dr. Crazy. I'll be here when you get back."

Sam just smiled and ducked into the car as Dean sidestepped out of the way. 

 

Dean smiled at the memory as he chanced a glance over at Sam. Sam had his eyes on the road, his brow furrowed a little bit after the fight they just had about Emma. Dean was still pretty upset, about the whole his daughter just got killed thing, but he'd be okay. Just needed a night with Sam and a couple of bottles if whiskey. 

After all, whiskey had numbed the pain enough about- ...other things, enough so that the nightmares weren't as frequent and that Dean could go a day or two before the realization slammed in the gut all over again. 

It always caught Dean's breath every time he opened Baby's trunk, to see the corner of a dirty trench coat tucked in amongst the holy water and the guns. Cas was dead, and Dean wasn't going to forget it. Anytime soon. Or ever, probably. 

But here, with him, Dean still had Sam. And, he had all the signs he needed. Clearly, the random hook ups with chicks at bars segment of Dean's life was over. And it went out with quite a bang. Literally. 

So now, now came a new era. One Dean was going to talk to Sam about as soon as Sam settled down. He just had to figure out the right way to ask.


	81. Arduous (Plucky the Pennywhistle's Magic...07x14)

Sam couldn't help but watch Dean affectionately as he scrambled in the phone booth, doing everything he could not to touch the walls. After he finally hung up the phone and stumbled out of the booth, he dramatically wiped his hand on his shirt as though that would somehow make him clean again. He walked towards Sam with an unusual bit of peppy in his step. 

"I hope we find something quick, this whole _protocol du jour_ thing's really creepin my cheese." Dean's eyes squinted in one of his more rare expressions for slight annoyance. As cute as the face was, it still managed not to distract Sam from the fact that Dean just spoke French. Sam mentally filed that away for later, he had to good of a comeback right now to pass up the opportunity. 

"So, we got dick on dick?" Dean kinda froze, squinching hung up his face funny. 

"That's a vivid way of putting it. You find anything on Wonder Woman?" Vivid was a great reaction to that. Vivid was associated with the visual sensory organs, which meant Dean was picturing it. And the sudden change of topic, as well as the fact that Dean didn't even answer his question, meant Dean had probably already been thinking about something along those lines. 

"No. And there probably won't be. They are definitely gone. But..." Sam held up the latest newspaper, the Wichita Sun, the headline big and bold with supernatural all over it: _Peculiar death baffles authorities._ "...I might have found something over in Kansas."

"All right, well, let's do it. But, uh, a few simple rules, okay? No babies. In fact, no baby mamas. No bars. No booze – no hot chicks of any kind." Sam couldn't help but dip his head down and smile at that. Dean had taken a step closer to Sam, like the two feet of space between them felt like too much. Sam didn't comment, because he definitly didn't mind. However, he couldn't pass up commenting on what Dean just said. 

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you just say –"

"Hey. You spawn a monster baby, see how quick you want to dive back in the pool." Sam laughed, his eyes trapped on Dean's. Which just got dimmed a bit with a bit of nerves. No one else could've seen the sudden change in Dean's expression, but Sam always could, and after all, he was only a foot away. Dean cleared his throat, shifting his eyes away from Sam for a moment before glancing back at him.

"Besides, it's uh. Not the pool I want to dive in anyways." Sam raised his eyebrows. Did Dean just make a gay reference? About himself...? 

Dean must have seen the dubious look on Sam's face, because he hurried to clarify. 

"I don't know man, I just think that maybe that whole hookup was a sign. And not just that she's a monster, because honestly things slid downhill way before that. I mean, the night went fine, it just wasn't. What I'm used to." Sam knew Dean was in the middle of some sort of arduous confession, but he was allowed just one comment. 

"Are you saying you actually prefer sex with a guy to Wonder Woman?" Dean shot Sam a quick glare that didn't actually hold any venom.

"Don't have to be so insecure Sam, god, you should learn to get an ego." Dean's voice was laced with sarcasm and it was all Sam could do not to laugh. He did smile though, reaching out to cup Dean's cheek in his hand. Dean swatted Sam's hand away.

"No, but really, I uh. I realized that hooking up with chicks just isn't my thing right now. Or for a while. And that's not why I'm saying this, it's more than just that, I guess I uh." Dean's hand went to the back of his neck and he looked at the ground for a second before his eyes flickered back up. The nerves from before were there, just a lot less hidden now. "I don't really know how to say this. But, did you want to. Uh. D'you think we should. I could uh. Sam, would you....did you want to try dating?" 

Sam's jaw dropped a little, but he closed it consciously, having to use every working brain cell left to complete the simple task. Dean had just asked him out. Dean. Who Sam was at least 99% sure had never asked anyone out before in the history of ever. He'd had a million flings, but even in high school, all of his relationships were unofficially official. But he'd just asked Sam out. Right now. Sam focused back in on Dean and realized that he was speaking. Sam checked back in with reality, at least as much as he could, and caught the tail end of Dean's ramblings. 

"I mean, if you didn't want to, that'd be cool, I just know you mentioned it once, or at least I mentioned it and you didn't seem to despise the idea, and I didn't know if it was something you wanted but if it is I don't know I guess I figured now was a good as any time, unless you had actually wanted some sort of nice dinner or something but I didn't think that was a much your style and-"

"Woah, woah woah. Dean. _Dean_." Dean froze mid-ramble. He looked up at Sam, his face twisted like he had no idea how he supposed to be thinking right now. "Did you just. Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? Like, hold hands walking down the street, introduce ourselves as lovers instead of brothers sort of thing?"

Dean cringed at the hold hands on the street part, but after his moment's hesitation, he nodded. 

"Yeah, I mean, if you wanted to be, I didn't know but I couldn't just ask ahead of time or-"

"Yes." Dean froze again, looking at Sam.

"What?"

"Yes. Yes, I'll be your boyfriend Dean. Yes." Dean stood there for a moment, his mouth forming a small oh of surprise. Like he didn't actually think that Sam would say yes. 

Sam needed to wipe all of that doubt off of Dean's face. He leaned forward, tilting Dean's chin up with his hand. Sam sealed his mouth over Dean's, his kiss pressing and possessive. Dean pushed back, his lips parting slightly with anticipation. As much as Sam wanted to just dive in and have a makeout session with Dean in the middle of a parking lot in Illinois, people were still dying in Kansas. So Sam drew back, a bit reluctantly. 

Dean took a moment and a half too long to open his eyes back up, which Sam thought was kind of cute, but if he called Dean out on it right now, that would've been a well-deserved punch. So Sam refrained, running the tips of his fingers over Dean's plump lips instead. Dean looked at him wide-eyed, like the moisture on Sam's fingers might as well be the death of him. Sam smiled at Dean's little turn on and still slightly lost expression. 

"C'mon, boyfriend, it's time to hit the road." Dean made a face and playfully socked Sam's bicep as Sam turned around in search of a new car. 

But as Sam took a step forward, suddenly Dean's hand entwined itself with his. Sam paused, looking down at the strong, thick fingers that ran between his, the warmth of Dean's palm clasped against his own. Sam looked back up to Dean's face, and his brother smiled, a genuine joyful smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

There weren't many things Sam loved more than the crinkles by Dean's eyes, so Sam couldn't help himself as he leaned towards the side and pressed a quick kiss to the outside edge of the lines. Dean dipped his head and blushed, and Sam knew if Dean was looking at him right now, he'd complain about Sam having the sappiest look ever on his face. And Sam did have that face, too, but he wasn't planning on changing any time soon. Sam squeezed Dean's hand in his, and they took a step forward together, for once, being entirely officially each others. 

This was something Sam could get used to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Kinda impractical, right?" Dean put on his thinking face, although he suddenly got distracted and his face changed. Dean's eyes swept down to Sam's feet, then trailed back up to his eyes. Sam raised an eyebrow, but Dean turned away before Sam could say something. 

"Okay, one of us needs to go talk to the naughty nanny. The other one stay here and shake down the place, when the wife leaves, see what we're dealing with."

"Alright, I'm on the nanny.

"I'm on the nanny." Dean said it quick enough that he must have already known what Sam was going to say before he opened his mouth. 

Sam fought back the upturn of his mouth as Dean put on his defense face. He ended up smiling a little, but not enough to piss off Dean. 

"I thought you said no hot chicks." Dean looked taken aback for a second. Then he came back with a signature sassy Dean answer. 

"We don't know she's hot." Sam made a face and turned on his heel, ending the conversation. Dean made a pleased sound of victory, then the car door swung open. There was a slight pause, then it closed again. 

"Hey Sam." Sam almost startled at his name. He'd thought Dean had gotten in the car. The pause must have been him changing his mind. But Sam turned around, an eyebrow raised in question. Dean was leaning on the hood of the impala, hands clasped and mouth a little tight with worry.

"I, uh. If you went, naughty nanny's gonna hit on you. And if she was hot...I just know if I go, then I'll spare you the trouble. There's no way she'd get the jump on me, now that i've got something much better waiting back home. But I don't trust her to not. Well. um. I guess I just don't want anyone hitting on my boyfriend."

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, watching as Dean shifted self-consciously. He had a pained look on his face like he'd just been forced to eat a salad or something. Or worse. Like admit his feelings. Sam knew Dean was trying to improve for Sam, but Sam still couldn't resist. Just because they were dating didn't mean _everything_ had to change between them. 

"That was beautiful, Dean. Will you write it in calligraphy for me so I can frame it on my wall?" Sam's voice was teasing, his lips turned up in a sassy smirk. Dean's face immediately relaxed, then he pretended to furrow his eyebrows in a pitiful display of annoyance. 

"Screw you, asshat."

"Sounds good to me."

Dean had started to get in the car again but he froze at Sam's words, looking up as his pupils widened and the emerald green disappeared into a dark Balsam Fir colour. Their gazes locked with an intense heat, and Sam sucked in his cheeks a little bit at the intensity. A flash went through Dean's eyes as he swept his gaze over Sam's suddenly more prominent cheek bones. 

"Really, Sam? Right now? We're working a case." Dean's protests bordered on desperate, but Sam couldn't help but take a slow step forward. And another. 

"Yeah, Dean, right now." He knew that wasn't what Dean meant by that, but he was on a roll. "Right now, you could just bend me over the hood of your car, hands on the paint as you take me from behind, right here in the middle of the street, with everyone to see as you take your boyfriend and split him open-"

"SAMM." Dean practically shouted to interrupt, verging on whimpering. He gestured wildly at his crotch, where his fed pants were tenting obscenely. Dean practically hissed his next sentence. "I have to go do an _interview_."

Sam snickered and looked down, letting his eyes linger a moment too long before he swept his gaze up to Dean's eyes again. 

"Looks like you'll be having fun with naughty nanny after all." 

Dean looked at him incredulously for a moment before he flipped Sam the finger. Sam just laughed again. Dean had a very difficult time pretending to be pissed about being turned on.

"You are so paying for this later," Dean growled.

"Good. I'll be looking forward to it."

Dean stared at him for another moment before he finally ducked his head into the car. Sam heard him mumble something along the lines of "pretentious bastard" as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. The Impala roared to life and Dean looked up, meeting Sam's eyes. Sam lifted his hand to his mouth, kissing it and tipping it towards Dean, rounding his lips into an "o" to blow. 

Dean rolled his eyes and lifted his hand too. For a moment Sam thought he'd blow one back, but his fingers all curled in except for his index finger. He pointed at Sam, then pointed at his lap, which based on his expression, was still a bit of a problem. Then he raised his eyebrows pointedly and nodded in confirmation. Sam smiled and tilted his head in acknowledgement. Then Dean was pulling out into traffic and Sam's eyes were following him, watching the sleek back car until it disappeared into the distance. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Let's roll." Dean managed to keep his jaw from dropping as Sam got out of the car. Sam was coated in at least two layers of glitter, rainbow specks of light that sparkled underneath the street lamps. Dean had to curl his lips into his mouth to hold back a laugh. From Sam's disheveled, long hair to his scuffed boots, Sam looked so damn right _sparkly_ Dean was about to lose it. 

Sam saw Dean checking him out, fighting back the urge to laugh. Sam dipped his head, throwing his hands up in the air. 

"Go ahead. Say it." Sam barely finished his words before Dean lost it, laughter bubbling out of him like a fountain. He tried to stop his breathy laugh, raising his hand and turning his gaze to the side, trying to catch air back in his lungs. 

"I'm sorry-" Dean tried to speak through the laughter, but Sam was still sparkling. Sam's eyes lit up as he watched Dean, a smile on his face bright because of Dean's laughter. Dean managed to speak a few words mixed with his laughter. 

"You look like you got attacked by some PCP-crazed strippers." Sam's smile widened, and the laughter crinkling Dean's eyes made everything in his vision blurred besides Sam. Sam, the glittery, tall, perfect man standing before him. 

"Dude, one of them sprayed me with seltzer from his flower." Dean couldnt help it, a new round of laughter burst out of Dean. He laughed even louder, and Sam looked up, surprised but pleased at Dean's reaction. Dean finally managed to get a grip on himself, taking in a deep breath. 

"I'm s– whew. What?" The _what_ came out with approximately four syllables, due to Dean's laughter. Still. 

"Nothing. Carry on."

"Ohh. That's..." Dean paused, his tone suddenly serious. apparently today was the day of confessing shit to Sam day. "Sam... I'm sorry for... psychologically scarring you."

"Which time?"

"Shut up. Seriously. You know, me – me ditching you when we were kids, that was a dick move. You know, the whole clown thing–"

"You know what, man? Honestly... getting my ass kicked by those juggalos tonight was, uh... it was therapeutic." Sam threw his hands up in a gesture that made him look drunk. Drunk and glittery. 

"You faced your fear." Dean had gotten another confession of his chest, and without any snide remarks this time. This whole dating thing wasn't so bad. 

"Exactly. And now what else could a clown possibly ever do to me? I feel good."

"Well, congrats." The last of Dean's giggles came out through those words. Wow, Sam was never living this glitter shit down. 

"By the way, to celebrate..." Sam turned towards his car, reaching in the window. Celebrate? When was the last time they did _anything_ to celebrate? Dean was pretty sure Sam meant they were celebrating two things too. Getting over the fear of clowns, which was obviously a big deal, and them. Celebrating each other, their new title too, cause why the hell not?

"What?" It was one of those "you didn't have to get me anything" what's. But Sam started walking back towards Dean, holding out his arm. That had a giant rainbow slinky in it. 

"No!" Dean felt like a four year old, but he took the slinky and stared at it open-mouthed. How had Sam known? Dean hadn't told him about the quest for the rainbow slinky earlier, and Sam hadn't seen him staring in awe at the little girl who'd won it, or all the hell Dean went through trying to get one. Somehow, Sam had just _known_. Sam had just known. 

"Yes."

"Did you win this?" Dean was still amazed, looking up at Sam incredulously. 

"We earned that." Sam had walked around to the shotgun door, and Dean walked to his side, laughing with pleasure. 

"Hey. I got you a little something, too, actually." Dean put the giant slinky on the roof of the car, and reached into the car window. He grabbed Sam's gift, pulling it out and tossing it to Sam. Sam caught the clown doll, and Dean even managed to hold back a joke about glitter and dolls.. Sam shuddered and held up the doll disgustedly under the orange glow of the street lights. 

"What? You said you were over it. You can think of it as a... clown phobia sobriety chip." Sam made a face at Dean, and Dean ducked his head in a smile. "C'mere." 

Sam walked around the front of the car, holding out the doll like it was poisonous. When he reached Dean's side of the car, Dean reached out and took the doll for a moment, looking at its creepy, painted face. Sam was watching him expectantly, and Dean lifted up the doll, spinning it to face Sam. Sam flinched, and Dean bit his lip to hold in his chuckle. 

"Here, you can face your fear again. Kill the clown, do something like, I don't know, break its head off." 

And that was how the clown ended up a few feet behind the car, head separated from the body and covered in a slight dusting of glitter. Once the clown was chunked, Sam brushed his hands on his shirt, which only managed to make them all glittery. Sam muttered an annoyed whine in protest as he realized. 

Dean stepped closer and layed his palms on top of Sam's where they were held up for inspection in the street glow. Sam looked up at Dean, a little surprised at the girls gesture. But Dean was pretty confident that nothing he did right now would be as Gorky as being covered in glitter, so he was in a temporary safe bubble where he couldn't be teased. Which he was definitely going to take advantage of. 

Dean curved his thumb under Sam's wrists and rotated their hands upward, so they were facing each other with their fingers pointed to the sky and palms pressed flat together. Then Dean curled his fingers and weaved them between Sam's, holding their entwined hands in the air like they were sacred. Sam still looked surprised, his pretty mouth twisted up at one corner. Dean took a last step forward, putting their bodies inches apart and their entwined hands to either side of Sam's shoulders.

Then Dean reached up on his tiptoes and took that pretty mouth in his own, ignoring as the metallic taste of glitter that flecked into his mouth. Dean would kiss Sam no matter what he was drenched in. Sam opened his mouth to Dean's, and Dean pressed against him more, slipping his tongue inside to run against Sam's. Sam responded, twisting his head to the side to get at Dean's mouth from a better angle. Shivers ran down Dean's spine, and what was meant to be a simple thank-you kiss suddenly made his jeans tighten a bit. 

Dean let go of Sam's hands, pressing his chest and hips to Sam's, not thinking about glitter until it was much too late. One of Dean's hands slid around to grip the back of Sam's neck, his fingers threading up into the hair on the back of Sam's head. Dean used his grip to pull Sam a little closer, tugging a bit on Sam's hair and eliciting a deep moan from him that absorbed into Dean's mouth. Dean licked across the inner lining of Sam's cheek, mentally noting to ask how the hell Sam got glitter in his mouth. 

Dean's other hand was wrapped around Sam's back, pressing them as tightly together as he could manage. Sam's hands mimicked Dan's, and if Dean wasn't quite preoccupied with the intriguing sweet taste of Sam mixing with the metallic burn of glitter flecks on Sam's tongue, he'd yell at Sam for getting glitter in his hair. But hey, Dean had his priorities straight, which meant the yelling could come later. 

Dean sucked Sam's tongue into his mouth, tilting his head to the other side for better access. Suddenly Sam's hands roamed, sliding down to Dean's hips. Sam's fingers curled roughly into Dean's flesh, and then Dean was abruptly being lifted and pressed against the car door. Dean gasped, drawing the oxygen out of Sam's mouth as the force knocked a bit of the precious air out of his lungs. 

Sam neared down on him, grinding his hips against Dean's. There were four layers of cotton and denim between them, but Dean could feel the bulge of Sam's dick pressed against his. The heat was ridiculously intense, and Dean suddenly remembered his raging boner from earlier that day, which Sam has never taken care of and had turned into Dean jacking off in a bathroom stall to Sam's words. Yeah, Sam was so going to pay for that. 

Dean brought his hands around to Sam's front, fisting Sam's jacket as he swung them around, pressing Sam into the car now. Dean ran his hands down the warmth of Sam's ribs, down to the crevices his hip bones made, a deep V that led beneath Sam's jeans. Dean lifted Sam shirt a bit, just enough to slip his fingers against Sam's warm skin and dig his thumbs into the fossa next to Sam's bones. Sam practically whined, a breathy sound that went straight to Dean's erection. 

Dean wrapped his hands around Sam's waist, short nails skidding lightly across to leave faint white marks in their wake. Then Dean pulled Sam's hips forward, leaning down on Sam's chest at the same time to keep Sam's back pressed against the car. Dean's hands found Sam's ass, a hand cupping each cheek before he squeezed roughly. 

Sam's mouth broke away from Dean's in a jilted gasp. Dean chased Sam's mouth but Sam turned his head to the side. Dean just changed his aim, mouth pressing to Sam's neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and a shiny trail in the trace of Dean's tongue. Sam gripped Dean tightly to him, shuddering as Dean nipped at a sensitive spot beneath Sam's ear. 

"Dean," Sam breathed, his voice full of intention and questions. Dean pulled back for a moment. He looked at Sam, all the glitter that was now shared on them both. That shouldn't have been hot, but it was. 

"Backseat, now." Dean managed to rasp out, and Sam practically shoved Dean off to get the back car door open. Sam ducked inside, laying back on the seat as Dean followed him inside. Dean folded in half and awkwardly closed the car door behind them. When he looked back at Sam, Sam was stifling a laugh. Dean raised an eyebrow. 

"What?" 

"There's glitter in your hair." 

Then Dean tackled Sam's mouth as revenge, and, well. You know what happens from there.


	82. Importune (Repo Man 07x15)

_Leave your name, number and nightmare at the tone._

"Dean, where are you? I'm scoping zero out here." Sam hung up the phone, pushing his worry down, Dean must just be busy.

"Not a good sign." Sam ignored him too. It was just his deepest thoughts being echoed back to him. If Lucifer was a hallucination, and he was, Dean had proved that to him, then the devil had actually sprung from Sam's self-conscious. Sam first figured this out after he thought it was odd that Lucifer would importune these couple-jokes about Dean and him. Then he realized it was his sub-conscious recognizing how couple-like he and Dean were. One of the first things Lucifer had said to him when Dean was around was the "aww, he's holding your hand" comment that would have seriously fucked with Sam if Sam and Dean hadn't been together-ish at the time. Lucifer made a ton of jokes about him and Dean, and Lucifer was technically just Sam's deepest thoughts, so everything that came out of his mouth was just actually Sam. Sam couldn't decide if that was comforting or terrifying.

He was scanning his eyes over the autopsy reports, but none of it was really absorbing. He couldn't find any connections, anything off. There had to be something, he was just missing it. Sam's head felt sluggish and slow, his usual clarity smudged over with worry for Dean and god knows whatever else. And the extremely annoying devil on his shoulder.

"Hmm. Surprised you haven't picked up on that yet. It's right... there in the coroner's report."

Sam was ignoring him to all reasonable extent, figuring maybe that'd make him go away. Even as he sat down across from Sam, making himself comfortable. But, he was still part of Sam's sub-conscious, and Sam's actual conscious was failing him, so it wouldn't kill him to flip to the coroner's report and look. Oh god.

"Yeah. Uh-huh. In this latest round of killings, our big girls had traces of heavy tranquilizers in their blood. Yeah? But our demon's strong enough to make fat Betty do whatever he wants to, right? So, why does he need the tranqs? Think he's got a bad back? Yeah, whatever is going on here, you know that demon's not coming back to kill anybody."

It was exactly what they had been looking for. Shit, Dean. Dean needed to know this right freaking now. Sam dialed Dean's last number, sending up a mini-prayer to anyone in heaven who was listening and didn't hate their guts.

_This is Special Agent Smith. Please leave your name, number and a detailed –_

Sam hung up, exasperated. This was a problem. His thoughts were echoed outloud by the annoying voice that just _wouldn't leave him alone_.

"Oh, no. That's every cellphone Dean's got. One of them should've picked up, right? Big brother's probably dead."

Sam couldn't listen to those words. Lucifer had no right to talk about Dean, and he absolutely could _not_ fucking say that. Ever.

"Shut up." Sam grabbed the reports and stood up, leaving Lucifer there at the table.

He hadn't meant to, had no idea that acknowledging Lucifer's presence would let him in. And Sam had been fine, could keep him out until it turned to Dean. Dean was his weak spot, and it ended up causing Sam a ton of pain. Again. Although Lucifer had actually been helpful in the case, he was also kind of messing with Sam's judgement. Sam considered maybe telling Dean, after they rescued Dean from Jeffrey's craziness, but what good would that do? Dean would be worried, and there was nothing either of them could do. So.

Dean made straight for the bed the moment he walked into their motel room. He plopped down, on his stomach, face turned slightly to the side, one foot hanging off the bed and sprawled out like some sort of eagle. Sam made his way for the other bed, talking through the case to make sense of it in his head. 

"So, Jeffrey was just pretending to be the victim. Way back in that farmhouse during the exorcism..."

Sam sat for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Dean's back and contemplating.

"...h-he was just... acting." Dean's voice responded, muffled by the cushions squishing one side of his face.

"He was a psychopath, Sam. That's what they do all the time, is act." Dean shifted, adjusting his shoulders to be more comfortable on the bed. "Act like they're normal, act like they're not balls-to-the-wall crazy."

"You going to sleep?" Sam was watching Dean, had been looking at him this whole time. Tracing the rough lines of his clothes that would hide the smooth, freckled shoulders and tapered white hips Sam adored so dearly. Dean mumbled back, his voice low and more gravely than usual. And if Sam wasn't tired too, he'd be extremely turned on by that voice.

"Damn straight. Screw consciousness – that's what I say."

Sam huffed out an affectionate breathe, moving to scoot one of the pillows on this bed on top of the other. They slept together a lot, just sleeping, curled around each other, but there were times when Dean or he was too tired, like right now, collapsing without even taking any of their clothes off. Just as Sam was about to scoot back, lay down, Lucifer appeared next to him, out of nowhere.

"No, no, Sam." Sam breathed in with surprise. "No nap for you, Sammy."

Sam pressed into his palm. The case was over, Lucifer would leave him alone now. He had to. So what if Sam had let him help on the case, so what if he'd given Lucifer temporary permission to stay. He had to leave now, with that trick Dean showed him. His poor, broken Dean who still vividly remembered torturing in hell. They didn't talk about it often, or really ever, but whenever it came up, Sam couldn't help but wonder what that Dean had been like, that partial-demon Dean. 

"Oh, come on, don't do that." Lucifer straightened up, still rambling. Somehow, not going away.

"Let's talk, Sam. I always enjoyed our special little chats. Don't you want to talk?"

Sam pressed harder. Why wasn't this working now?

"Yeah, look at that. Something's definitely different now, isn't it? You let me in. You wanted me, partner. So you think you can use your little tricks to banish me again..." Lucifer snapped his fingers and Sam jumped at the noise. "Like that? No. I do believe I've got you, bunk buddy."

Sam wasn't going to look at him. This wasn't happening.

"Got my finger wiggling around in your brainpan."

Flames suddenly leapt up on the bed around Sam. He looked around, partially terrified. His body flinched and twitched. Lucifer just laughed.

"Come on, Sammy! Come on! Say it with me now." Sam winced, his heart rate pumping way too fast as Lucifer shouted in his ear. "Good morning, Vietnam!" 

Sam wanted so badly to reach for Dean, to call to his brother, have Dean hold him until Lucifer went away. But, Dean had been abducted, he needed rest. Besides, Sam had no idea what Lucifer would hallucinate Dean into, and didn't want to give him any new ideas. Sam could handle spending the night in flames, so long as he could see Dean sleeping there, at peace. But once Lucifer put those flames on Dean, Sam would lose it. So he stayed, endured. He'd endure all night if he had to.

Anything to protect Dean.

Anything.


	83. Sanguine (Out with the Old  07x16)

"Lucifer will not shut up." Dean blinked and sat up a little straighter. God, at least Sam was telling him this stuff. Dean couldn't imagine if Sam tried to go this on his own. That'd be terrifying. Dean just only wished he could somehow help, somehow do something. Dean's eyes swept Sam's face, Sam who was looking down at his hands dejectedly.

"Even now?" Please please please no.

"He's singing Stairway to Heaven right now." Dean wasn't quite sure what to do with that. I mean, Zeppelin, the guy had good taste. Well, he was a figment of Sam's imagination, so Sam had good taste. Although that was mostly a biproduct of Dean's required driving music.

"Good song."

"Not fifty times in a row." Ouch. Dean huffed in agreement. At least this was a little more light hearted than some of their Lucifer talks. Sam wouldn't always tell him what Lucifer was doing, but Dean was always afraid of what it could be. After all, Lucifer had made Sam believe he was Dean at first, there was no proof that wouldn't happen again. Or didn't happen. Often. There was a part of Dean that was afraid everytime he went out for coffee that Lucifer would morph into him and drive Sam off some bridge somewhere. Dean put on a sanguine facade for Sam though, so Sam always had some saneness to fall back on.

Then Sam's phone rang, and Dean watched him casually over the brim of his coffee cup. Although Sam seemed pretty put together, something was extremely off. Like the whole really tired thing Dean had noticed. But for now, they had to go save some asshat who did something stupid again. And of course get jumped by Leviathan. Sam's fighting skills were majorly off, and honestly Dean never would have let him come with if Dean had known. God, Sam had almost gotten killed. Dean had to do something about this whole sleep thing.

It was after the fight, talking outside the truck, that Dean brought it up again.

"What are we gonna do now?"

"You are gonna sleep on it." Sam huffed out a laugh of affection. Dean echoed the smile internally, but kept his bossy face on on the outside. "All the way to Frank's. Capeche?"

"I wish I could."

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah. Yeah. A little. I don't know." Lies.

"Well we'll find you a soft rock station that always knocks you right out." Sam huffed his happy laugh again and Dean took one last look before climbing in the driver's side of the car. Before he even put in the key, Dean leaned over and pecked Sam on the cheek.

"Sleep now, Aurora."

"Wow, I'm surprised you knew which princess that was."

"Shutup."

Dean turned on the engine and pulled outta dodge, heading off to Frank's. Then a nice long night in a motel room. Dean would see if he couldn't knock Sam out. He was betting he definitely could.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Normally, after one of their friends got painted on the walls via Leviathan teeth, Dean drank himself to sleep. He would do that tonight to honour Frank, if there weren't more pressing objects at hand. Frank's death sucked majorly, but Sam almost dying because he couldn't sleep sucked majorly more. 

This motel room was the same as every other, with light blue walls and some geometric flowery design for the wall divider. Dean wasn't sure what said wall divider was for, but every motel room in the nation had them, so apparently they were important.

Dean dumped his things unceremoniously on one of the beds, turning to take Sam's duffel from him and toss it on top of his. Sam looked at him curiously for approximately three seconds before Dean's mouth was on his and Sam no longer cared about their bags at all. Dean could've bowed and taken Sam's bag to Arabia, it wouldn't have mattered now with the way Dean was sucking Sam's bottom lip into his mouth. 

Dean was suddenly being pushed roughly backwards, Sam's arms alive with a new vitality Dean hadn't seen in days. He still was a little weaker than normal, due to the dark circles under his eyes and the yawn in his mouth that Dean caught off of Sam's tongue, swallowing the sound before the air could have it. The yawn didn't seem to slow down Sam's intensity any though, he was pushing Dean back on the free bed and frantically pushing his shirts off of his shoulders like it was a goddamned race. Dean definitely didn't mind the race though. 

The lips and sucking became teeth and tongues as the adrenaline kicked in and Dean landed on the comforter, his bare back smacking the cold sheets with a sinking chill. But Sam was crawling on top of him moments later, radiating heat off his own unclothed chest. Their mouths connected again with a hot wet smack and Sam's hands were everywhere, searing marks everywhere his skin met Dean's. Everything was hot and sweaty and desperate. Dean was so encompassed in Sam, he was everywhere all at once and somehow still not enough. Dean needed more, he needed Sam in every part of him. 

"Sam," Dean turned his head to the side, breathing out the word like a shaky plea as Sam latched onto Dean's neck, his teeth sinking into the skin behind Dean's ear. Dean's body arched up into Sam's, his hands scrabbling across the wide warm expanse of Sam's back. Dean's fingers finally found purchase in the tight muscles of Sam's shoulder blades, digging into the sweat sheened skin. 

Sam's lips closed over his bite mark, sucking at the already forming bruise and much too sensitive skin. Dean let out a choked sound, black spots of pain and pleasure dancing up in front of his eyes. Sam's hips grinded down on Dean's, their denim zippers making metallic dancing sounds that promised warmth behind. Suddenly their jeans were way too much clothing and Dean's hands swept down Sam's back and over his hip bones, squeezing between their bodies to push at Sam's hips. Sam propped himself up on his forearms, his mouth leaving Dean's skin with a soft pop. 

Dean stared up at Sam's swollen lips, the hair falling in Sam's face, distracting a bit from the bags underneath his eyes. Dean's Sam, his Sam, was so sleep deprived it was killing both of them. Sex always knocked Sam right out though. And that, Dean could definitely give to him. 

Dean reached up his fingers to gently touch Sam's swollen lips, and just like that, the spell was broken. A sudden frenzy of hands and zippers and silent commands commenced, Dean pulling Sam's jeans down over his ass and cock, boxers following with. Sam rolled on to his side to pull them off the rest of the way and Dean started working on his own zipper. Sam's hands closed over Dean's, pulling them off of his jean waistband. Dean lifted his hips up off the bed to let Sam pull his jeans down, past his knees and ankles and then tossed off the bed as Dean reached over for the bottle of lube he'd set out of his bag on the nightstand earlier. It was the first thing he did after walking in the room. 

Sam lifted up Dean's hips again as Dean popped open the bottle. Then Sam was pulling down Dean's boxers as Dean squirted lube onto his hand, wrapping his hand around Sam's dick and slicking up the length. Sam threw back his head and moaned. They worked together efficiently in bed just as they did fighting, and now, only a minute later, both of them were naked and Sam was slicked up and ready to go. 

Sam moved his hand to his cock, coating two of his fingers in lube and dipping them out of Dean's sight. Sam cupped his free hand underneath Dean's knee, bringing it up to an angle to give him better access. Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam to go already when a slick finger pushed inside him. Instead of words, a groaned escaped Dean's lips, thrashing his head to the side. Sam was quick and relentless, giving him practically no time to adjust before a second finger shimmied in next to the one knuckle-deep inside him. Dean let out a soft yelp which he was going to entirely deny later. Sam fingers felt huge and warm inside him, and having his eyes closed made the sensation even more intense. Sam worked quickly, pumping his fingers in and out a few times, scissoring them a bit and eliciting more soft noises tumbling from Dean's mouth. 

Then suddenly the filling sensation and the heat was gone, and was replaced by the feeling of a slick round head at Dean's entrance. Dean's lips parted, his lungs gasping in air as Sam pushed inside. It was tight and burning, then the head cleared his entrance and the black dots in his vision turned to stars. 

"Sa-sam," Dean breathed out. And just like that, Sam was pounding into him, drawing back so far and pushing in so deep, his pace faster than Dean had ever been with him before. Dean kept letting out high pitched noises he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed about. It took brain functions to be embarrassed and that was something Desn didn't have right now as he was being pounded into oblivion. Dean was faintly aware of the bed hitting the wall with repetitive thumps, but it didn't register in any part of his conscious brain. 

He was so overwhelmed with Sam, Sam here with him inside him part of him they were one and oh god Sam pushed Dean's bent knee up further, changing the angle and pushing deeper. Dean let out a shout muffled by biting his lip, his hands too busy being occupied gripping onto Sam's sweaty back.

It was like the best kind of being lost, of just the moving and the grinding together. Until Sam hit that sweet spot, and it just built and built until Dean couldn't take it anymore and his orgasm took him, blew him to a new high he was pretty sure he'd never come down from. His brain distantly recognized someone screaming Sam's name, but then there were fireworks and warmth and this goddamned feeling. It flew through every bone in his body and shot between their bodies, the electricity suddenly shared as Dean felt Sam release inside him, his nerve endings overactive and absorbing the shock and heat between them.

Dean had no idea how long had passed before the stars in front of his eyes finally began to fade. His first coherent thought was Sam's name, and in turn, reaching for wherever his brother had gone. Sam had collapsed on the pillow next to him, and Dean's hand found his chest, sliding up to Sam's chin to turn his head gently.

Dean wasn't sure what he had been expecting, although he was half-hoping for Sam's eyes to be slid shut in sleep. Sam wasn't asleep though, in fact, he didn't look a bit tired. There wasn't a feature on his face that matched the worn contentedness of Dean's. In fact, Sam almost looked terrified. When he caught Dean's gaze though, he forced his mouth up in a smile. Dean ran his thumb over the corner of Sam's lips, smoothing them back down. Sam didn't have to fake anything for him.

"You okay Sammy?" How Sam wasn't in a state of extended bliss due to the orgasm that just hit them both, Dean had no idea. He didn't think it was physically possible to damper a mood that high.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine. Great. You were great." That was so Sam. Clearly Sam was not okay, but the only thing he cared about was reassuring Dean and making sure Dean knew that.

"That's not what I meant, Sam." Sam's face fell a little, like he was surprised his "fine" facade hadn't cut it. Dean knew Sam didn't like talking about his hallucinations, and Dean didn't either, it made Sam's condition so much more real when they talked about it out loud. And Dean was still floating on his post-(best-fucking-ever)-orgasmic bliss. But there were some things Dean had to say before his eyes drifted shut on their own accord.

"Dean, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Dean's vision went blurry for a second as sleep tried to take him, but he fought it, opening his mouth to speak.

"Fine. Freaked out, insecure, neuro-mmm." His words trailed off as consciousness slipped away, and Dean fell asleep for a few seconds before he managed to wake himself back up. Sam finished his sentence for him, patting a hand on Dean's bare chest.

"Neurotic and emotional. Yeah, I know." Dean mmhmm'ed in his sleepy stupor, his fingers trailing off of Sam's jawbone and curling in a fist pressed up against Sam's chest. 

"I'mma just take a nap, then we'll go back at it, see if I can tire you out some more. Kay Sammy?"

"Okay Dean." Sam leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead. Dean smiled and let the blackness take him.

But he didn't wake back up, and Sam still had Lucifer at his bedside, jaunting at his mind into all hours of the night. He had to get out of this place.


	84. Impetuosity (The Born-Again Identity  07x17)

The doctor was a little surprised at the large man who just stormed into his office, inquiring if he was the doctor to see. Nurse Holly tried to constrain him, but the man was huge, and, well, extremely stubborn. Not to mention a little bit terrifying. Although the doctor would never admit to that.

"He was in a car crash, why the hell can't I see him?" The man shouted at him, practically, and while the doctor was used to aggravated relations, this man had the most impetuosity the doctor could remember ever witnessing. And the man said "he" as though everyone in the entire world knew exactly who he was talking about. It wasn't the way he said it that made the doctor know who "he" was, though. It was that the doctor realized he had seen that exact same way of speaking earlier, with one of the patients. The other man, the patient, he was even taller, but slightly more deranged, although much more collected. _He's going to want to see me. You'll let him in, right, doctor?_ That same "he" like "he" was the most important being to ever have been alive. 

"You're Sam Smith's brother." 

"Yeah, what the hell's going on?"

"He's fine, thank you. Really." The doctor gestured for the nurse to leave. She was reluctant, but the doctor had a feeling this man was much more stubborn than either of them.

The doctor explained Sam's situation to the brother, but at the words "locked psychiatric ward" the man's face was hit with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and fear. He understood that news like this could be detrimental, but the man looked almost guilty, like he was blaming himself somehow.

"All I can say is, the sleep thing is kinda new." The man looked down at that. Like he wasn't sure if he should know that, or if it was his fault, or if he had somehow done something wrong to not help his brother sleep. This was the kind of man who seemed to be in control all the time, so having something this devastating in his life must have been hard. 

"Right." The doctor was still a bit skeptical of this man. Honestly, he didn't look much like the other man. If they were dating instead of related, it would be harder for them to see each other. Maybe that's what was up with the fake sounding last name. 

"Well, we pumped as full of sedatives as we can. I've never seen anything like it." The man was silent on the entire walk over to his "brother's" room. Which was extremely surprising, considering his number of questions and bombarding accusations. 

The doctor was glad to leave the man at the door, and as he turned to walk away, he couldn't help but notice the gentleness at which the man opened the doorknob. The doctor was surprised, he didn't think the man had a single gentle bone in his body. But he slipped inside, calm and quietly. The doctor was fairly sure these men were lovers. But he had other patients to tend to, the fury-gentle man and his "brother" could have all the time in peace they needed for all he cared. 

~*~*~*~*~

Sam looked up as Dean entered the room. At least Dean didn't look as much of a wreck as Sam had been expecting. But Dean still had this aura of urgency about him, and of course, his perpetual worry. Lucifer was busy commenting as well, and normally Sam could block him out enough when Dean was there. Today, though, Sam was just so _tired_. His whole body ached, but his mind ached the worst. He needed sleep, and it was seemingly impossible to get.

"Ah, Mr. Helpless. Pull up a six-pack, buddy." Sam pretended not to hear Hallucifer's comment. Or to think that that was actually one of Sam's thoughts, technically, although Sam could never remember thinking of Dean as helpless.

"How are you feeling?" At least Dean was calm. Sam didn't have the ability to argue against a raging Dean right now.

"Maybe you should cancel my UFC fight." Dean didn't laugh. Sam wasn't surprised. Then the voice made a comment, and Sam blinked it away, focusing in on the sound of Dean's familiar footsteps, the way he swung his legs to the side to sit down on the end of Sam's bed. Dean looked down at his hands, and Sam felt immensely sorry for him. This had to be nearly as hard for Dean as it was for Sam. Sam remembered sitting helpless as Dean had flashbacks about hell, unable to help and desperate to do anything. This bed was bigger than most, which would be nice if Sam could sleep, but it made Dean seem extremely far away. Sam just wanted him closer, that was all.

"Sam, I'm gonna find you help." Always the hopeful one. But it was in vain, Dean knew that too, somewhere deep inside. Sam breathed out a sigh and turned his head to the side. He couldn't see the disappointment, the stubborn look on Dean's face as he would slowly realize there was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

"Now, that sounded a little cynical." Ignore.

"I don't think it's out there, Dean." 

"We don't know that." Sam couldn't remember the last time he heard Dean's voice so quiet, full of reasoning. There was a part of Sam (apparently the part that Lucifer tapped, based on his comment when Dean entered the room) that thought Dean would just come in here raging drunk and reckless with ideas. But here he was, very sober and quiet and contemplative. Sam would be proud or happy if he could feel anything besides tired.

"We know better than most. It's all snake oil. Last faith healer we hooked up with had a reaper on a leash. Remember?" Dean stood up, turning his back to Sam. That had been the first time Dean had almost died, besides just dangerous fights with monsters, and it was something Sam was never going to forget. 

"Yeah, Sam, I remember." Dean sounded a bit more exacerbated now. Now that Sam was ruining all of his ideas to save him.

"I'm just saying..." Dean turned back around, lifting an eyebrow.

"What? That you don't want my help?" After all of this years, everything they'd ever been through, and Dean was still insecure. Still didn't believe that Sam needed him. Wanted him. 

"No, I'm just saying… don't do this to yourself."

"Sam, if I don't find something –"

"Then I'll die." Sam said it as simply as he could, the inevitable. 

"Oh, you're upsetting me!" Hallucifer jumped in, but Sam ignored him. Again. It was easier to ignore him with his concerned boyfriend standing at the foot of his bed.

"Dean, we knew this was coming." Dean raised his eyebrows like no, he didn't know this was coming, this wasn't coming. Sam could practically hear his thoughts.

"No."

"When you put my soul back..." Sam tried again to reason, to remind Dean they knew all along...

"No."

"...Cas warned you about all the crap it would –"

"Screw Cas!" There it was. The look on Dean's face at the very mention of Cas's name. Sam had been suspecting for a very long time, and then recently, he became extremely sure. Dean was in love with Cas. Sam was pretty sure Dean didn't realize it until the moment he picked up Cas's bloody trenchcoat out of that river. Even then, it was like he'd been denying it to himself. Dean had had no idea how much he needed the angel, until he was dead. And gone. And honestly, Sam knew Dean loved him too, so it wasn't like some crazy battle for his affection. Sam understood how it was, that Dean loved Cas but still (maybe?) put him as second best. And knowing Dean, Dean would think Cas deserved more than that, so he'd pretend he'd never loved him at all. But the amount of pain, of "you broke my heart" Dean put into that _Screw Cas_ , it was quite obvious that Dean did know now. He knew he loved the angel, and it'd been too late. He'd realized too late. But then the topic of Cas was gone, and the enraged Dean that Sam had been expecting from the beginning was here.

"Quit being Dalai frickin' Yoda about this, okay?" Dean punched his hand with his fist. "Get pissed!"

"I'm too tired." Sam sighed. He couldn't fight, he could barely keep his eyes open. Dean just needed to let go. "This is what happens when you throw a soul into Lucifer's dog bowl. And you think there's just gonna be some cure out there?"

Sam looked up at Dean with all of his emotions clear on his face. Dean looked back for a moment, his pain echoing even worse than Sam's, before he nodded to himself. It wasn't an agreement with Sam, it was a silent promise to himself to save Sam, no matter the cost. Dean bit his lip, probably to keep it from trembling.

"Oh, you guys are having a moment."

Dean turned on his heel towards the door, stalking out with long strides and not bothering to say goodbye. Sam knew why Dean hadn't said goodbye, or held his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed, or given him a kiss before he left, or even when he came in. It was so that Sam knew this wasn't the end. And Dean knew Sam wouldn't die without some sort of closure with Dean, so Dean was going to be stubborn and insist on not giving it to Sam. So here Sam was, forced to wait until the next time Dean came, until he finally got his goodbye so he could get this over with. If only Dean wouldn't try so hard. Sometimes people just couldn't be saved.

Sometimes _Sam_ just couldn't be saved.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean pulled his knife out of the demon, forcing the body off of him with a rough shove. The demon tumbled down the steps, and Dean followed it with his gaze, until it landed at the feet of a man. Dean looked up, taking a few steps forward before he froze. He just froze. Just stared. He couldn't do anything else. The man's head was bowed, but somehow Dean knew regardless. 

The man at the bottom of the steps lifted his head, his eyes locking on Dean's. For just a moment, Dean was fairly sure he was going to topple forward and take the same route down the stairs that the demon's body did. But he was even more sure that he couldn't move, couldn't do anything, not even think, just stare. It couldn't be true, there was no fucking way. But those blues, those captivating blue eyes that kept on haunting Dean's nightmares and saving Dean's dreams, those Sam eyes were on that man, as he looked up at Dean, confusion on his features. That was the most familiar look for him too, for that face that Dean had tried so hard to forget. He couldn't though, he could never. Not when he realized it was the face of a man he had loved for a very long time, and never known until it was way too goddamn late.

"What was that?" Cas's voice, the same questioning expression. Suddenly Dean couldn't breathe. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Some speech about how, oh sorry, wait, I loved you and I never knew it until you were dead? I've been pining away for you and it's been slowly eating at my soul? I never forgave myself for never telling you, I should have told you every day? Told you what I was feeling, deep down inside? About how you deserved better than me, better than having to settle for second best, and that's why I never let myself believe I loved you? That I needed you? That I was an absolute wreck without you? Where in the world did Dean begin?

Dean opened his mouth to speak and found out he didn't know how. That was new. He tried saying something, tried saying anything, but his vocal box was magically broken. He closed his mouth again, clearing his throat. Then he tried again.

"Evil." That was the final thing that Dean finally managed to croak out. Cas just looked at him oddly before stepping over the body, beginning his descent up the steps. Dean backpedaled as Cas reached the top, his body turning to follow Cas's, but not touching him, despite the urge to reach out and grab him, pull him into Dean's chest and hold him forever. Or let Cas hold him forever, that was good too. But Dean just turned as Castiel passed him, nodding in his direction and tilting his head for Dean to come in as he opened the door. Dean numbly followed, unable to do anything else.

 

Dean watched on as Cas untied the woman, and she placed a hand to his cheek. She was saying something, but Dean couldn't hear her. His eyes just kept following Cas, trying to figure out why the hell he hadn't gotten some sort of I-missed-you hug. Or at least the "Hello Dean" that Dean wished he'd hear again. Dean was pretty sure Cas didn't know or remember who Dean was, or else Cas would have said something to him by now. 

Finally Cas turned to him again, his hand wrapped gently around the girl's wrist. Cas walked towards him, the girl in tow, stopping about two feet further away from Dean than Dean was used to standing.

"I'm Emmanuel." Cas - wait, Emmanuel - stuck out his hand. Dean looked down at it curiously before he realized he was supposed to shake it. His entire body and mind were still so overwhelmed, he wasn't functioning like a normal person. 

"Dean. I'm Dean." Dean shook Emmanuel-Cas-whatever-the-hell-was-happening's hand, his thumb wrapping over skin he'd never touched enough, and his entire world was spinning so fast he was surprised he hadn't stumbled over his own feet yet.

"Thank you for protecting my wife."

Dean stared at Cas for a moment, _Emmanuel_ , whatever, unable to process anything in the blanked out blur that was his mind. Eventually the words registered, and Dean repeated them, somehow only capable of saying things Cas did.

"Your wife." Dean glanced over at her for approximately half a millisecond before he returned his gaze to Cas. 

"I saw his face. His real face."

"He was a demon." Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas. Cas couldn't recognize what a demon looked like? Really?

"A demon walked the Earth." Cas said it like it was he most profound thing he'd ever heard.

"Demons. You don't know about..." Dean froze. Cas didn't know. He didn't remember. For some reason, Cas's memory was wiped. Dean breathed in forcefully, his eyes darting back and forth as it all dawned on him. It wasn't an act for the girl, Cas honestly didn't remember anything. He didn't even remember Dean. 

Dean was pretty sure that was the ultimate. He could handle an annoyed Cas, a depressed Cas, hell, even a pissed off Cas who was angry with him. But Dean had never imagined the pain that would strike through him as he realized he meant _nothing_ to someone who meant everything. Dean was just another person to Cas now, not his charge, or his friend, or his family. Nothing. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever be able to sleep again. Cas didn't know him. Which meant Cas didn't love him. Which meant all of Dean's pining was for nothing. So much nothing.

The wife started talking, but Dean was still stuck in his stupor. Cas didn't know he was Cas. What the hell was Dean supposed to do? He'd spent the past few months wanting nothing more than to just see Castiel one more time, just so Dean could tell him. So Dean could say what he should have said the first time he ever laid eyes on those brilliant blues. But now, now there was no use. What was the point? Cas had no idea who Dean was. So Dean couldn't tell him anything. Now maybe Cas would never know.

It was all so confusing, Dean was relieved when Cas finally asked him what he needed healed. Sam, he could deal with. Sam wasn't complicated as hell. Well, at least right now he wasn't. As for Cas, well, Dean could figure that out as he went along.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean was already really not into having Meg on this trip with them. Hell, the first thing she said was suspicious as hell, that whole "we go way back" thing. Bitch. 

But then she sauntered up, leaning in closely to Castiel. Dean couldn't see her face, but he could practically feel the tension she was attempting to build between them, batting her eyelashes like a schoolgirl and sweeping her gaze up and down Cas's body. 

"But I think we're gonna be good friends too." What the hell. Dean didn't like Meg in the first place, but now that she was all over Cas, it lit another fire of hatred for her. Dean wasn't usually the jealous type, but having to watch Meg slobber on Dean's angel irked him way more than it should have. Apparently he really could be the jealous type. He flicked his eyes back and forth between the evil temptress and Cas's face. He looked extremely unimpressed, or confused. So that was good. But Meg was stubborn, she was a demon. Which meant there was going to be a lot of flirting Dean would have to put up with. 

"Alright can we go?" It was more of an annoyed order than a question. Cas took a step backwards, bumping into the car before he snapped out of it and walked over to shotgun. Meg caught Dean's eye once Cas was inside the car, whispering quietly under her breath.

"Oh Dean, what would your boyfriend think now that you can't keep your eyes off your other boyfriend?" She winked and swung open her car door, slipping inside before Dean could reply with his fist. Or Ruby's knife. God, freakin demons.

After the car trip that was definitely going to make Dean's list of most annoying car trips on the face of the planet, they finally got to Sam's hospital. And of course, there was a buttload of demons guarding the place. Whoever found out that a Winchester was on lockdown at a hospital was sure to jump on it like Dean on pie and go straight to Crowley. The only problem was, there was no way they could take out that many without some angelic assistance. 

Meg turned to Dean, her eyes and words suggesting just that. But who knows what Cas's memories would do to him? They were clearly gone for a reason. Dean had to think this through. He pulled Meg aside, far enough away that Cas couldn't hear. 

"Sam's in there!" It was the very first thing she said. And it hit Dean like a bullet to the heart. Dean didn't want this to go that way, to make it come down to choosing between Cas and Sam. That wasn't fair, that was never fair. And Dean had just gotten Cas back, too. Dean glared at Meg, but that didn't stop her from continuing on to voice Dean's deepest thoughts out loud and make him confront them.

"I know you're enjoying the double dip with your old pal-"

"Think it's that cut and dry? Really?" This was about more than having Cas, this was about Cas breaking down too. If Castiel remembering made him explode or some shit, Dean would learn to live with Emmanuel, somehow convince Emmanuel to come on the road with them, make it a team of three. It would be nearly impossible, but Dean could do it. But again, it wasn't that black and white. In order to save Sam, had to get past the demons, which meant Cas had to go all angelic woe on them. Which meant memories. And possible explosions.

"You know what he did. And you just wanna tell him and hope that he takes it in stride? He could snap, he could disappear. Who knows?" Even worse than having a Cas who didn't know Dean was having a Cas who was. Well, not having him. Having him gone.

Dean stared down Meg, but her eyes were unrelenting. _That's Sam in there_. God, how had she gotten to know him well enough to hit him in the only place that really hurt?

"I gather we know each other." Dean spun around to the sound of Cas's voice. He was frozen again, not really knowing how to respond to that. At all.

"Just a dollop." Meg's sassiness cut through the thick air around them, and Cas lowered his head, his expression unreadable.

"You could tell me, I'll be fine." The words were quiet and submissive, like he said them but wasn't sure he meant them.

"How do you know?" The amount of concern in Dean's voice set Cas back on his heels a bit. Dean was looking at him like Cas was the world, and Dean would do anything to save it. "You just met yourself, I've known you for years."

"You're an angel." BITCH.

Dean's face when so quickly from caring to extremely sassy and annoyed he surprised himself. He shot death rays at Meg, but she only had eyes for the pretty boy in front of her. 

"I'm sorry. Is that a flirtation?" God, Cas had finally picked up on flirtation _now_?

"No, it's a species. A very powerful one."

"She's not lyin. Okay, that's why you heal people. You don't eat. I'm sure there's more." Dean could list at least a dozen more, not just angel characteristics, but Cas things. Like that he liked watching TV if it was cartoons, and how he always said Hello instead of any other greeting. That he ducked his head when he smiled, a habit formed back when he wasn't supposed to have emotion. How Cas had no idea of what personal space meant, especially around Dean, and how that had lead to more than just flirtation a couple of times. That Cas would eat bacon, but only if Dean made it, and that if he ever ate out, he ordered exactly the same burger Dean did. Or how the lines next to his mouth would be more prominent when he was thinking something deeply, or how his eyes lit up with a bright flame when he yelled. Not that Dean knew anything about Cas or anything.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Cas furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Being an angel, it sounds pleasant."

"It's not, trust me." Dean may possibly have answered that a bit too quickly, like he knew what Cas was going to say and already had an answer prepared. "It's bloody, it's corrupt. It's not pleasant."

"He would know. You used to fight together." Meg turned her snobby nose up to Dean. "Bestest friends, actually."

Dean glared down at her. Now was really not the time for more boyfriend jokes, especially when they were trying to help Cas out right now. If Cas thought that maybe he and Dean had been more than just friends at one point, maybe Cas wouldn't want to stay. Maybe Amnesia Cas didn't see Dean that way. Maybe he wouldn't want that, wouldn't want for Dean to be something more to him. Maybe Amnesia Cas finally had enough distance to see Dean clear enough to know that Dean wasn't good enough for him. 

"We're. Friends?" Dean just looked at Cas. Nothing he could really say to that. Castiel breathed in deeply, gathering courage. "Am I Cas?"

Neither of them responded. Dean had to admit though, Cas was quick. Figured it out without them telling him anything but "angel" and "friends." 

"I had no idea. I don't remember you, I'm sorry." Dean knew. He knew Cas didn't remember. But it still hurt like hell, another knife to his stomach as Cas said it out loud. Dean kept his eyes carefully cool and emotionless, but that was just to keep out the shattering hope and feelings inside of him.

"Look, you've got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot." Dean wouldn't look at Cas. Couldn't. God, what if Cas remembered and didn't want Dean anymore? Dean couldn't let go of that thought. It was right there, so obvious in the way Emmanuel didn't stand close to him, or look at him with that same wonder and love that Cas did. Cas would remember what it was like to be Emmanuel, he'd remember what it was like to see Dean clearly for the first time, without the hazy judgemental glasses of Cas's past.

Cas turned away, and for a moment, Dean thought he'd walk away. Or say no. Or deny it all. Or go back to his wife. God, Cas was married. But then Cas surprised him.

"I don't remember how." For the first time since he'd stood on those steps, looking down at Cas, Dean finally knew his place. It was a plea for help, and that was Dean's specialty. This part, he could handle. Helping Cas would make this so much easier. Dean stepped forward, walking up slowly to Castiel's side, touching Cas's forearm hesitantly. Cas didn't jerk away, and Dean planted his hand more firmly, feeling Cas's warmth radiate through his jacket. 

"It's in there. I'm sure it's just like riding a bike." Cas turned his head to Dean, and they were finally close again. Not quite as physically juxtaposed as they'd been at one point, but there was a much more reasonable amount of space between them now. Dean's words were the first time he'd said _i love you_ to Cas in a long time. That's how he said it, with his body and his promises. And now he they were, Dean's silent "i love you's" radiating through him and through Cas at the connection of Dean's hand on Cas's arm. Now Cas was here, here with Dean and Dean wanted to stay like this forever, just touching Cas and staring in his eyes, less than a foot apart. Dean knew Meg was watching, but honestly he didn't care. This was Cas, this was Dean's Cas, and Dean was so close to maybe having him back. Maybe. 

"I don't know how to do that, either." Dean raised his eyebrows and breathed in, snapping out of his girly thoughts and turning his head for a moment. When he looked back, Cas was still watching him. Dean gave him a look, which Amnesia Cas surprisingly picked up.

"Alright, I'll try." Dean nodded and drew his arm back, watching as Cas made his way down the hill. Dean could feel Meg's eyes on the back of his head, and he figured he should say something. 

"This ain't gonna go well."

"I don't know. I believe in the little treetopper." Dean turned and looked at her. They were wearing matched expressions, as much as Dean hated to admit. Both of them with love in their eyes for Castiel and worry for his future, although Meg had that bright spark of hope Dean was afraid to let out. He turned back to watch Cas from afar, he and Meg finally in terms with each other for once.

~*~*~

It hit him like a hurricane, full force and swirling and ruining everything in it's path. Although there had been no gentle eye for Castiel to breath during. It was all just a whirlwind, everything he'd been, seen, and done. And Dean. Dean who was his entire existence and who Castiel had let down. More than let down, Castiel had destroyed him. Why Dean hadn't had left Cas to rot for eternity when he was Emmanuel, Cas had no idea. Actually, he did know. It was because Dean was a good man. Better than that, Dean was the most perfectly flawed and caring man that had ever walked the earth. And now, Cas could hear him approaching, his footsteps cautious like he was afraid Castiel would spook and fly off at the sound of his feet. And Castiel might.

"That was beautiful, Clarence." Meg. Oh Meg, Cas had forgotten all about the demon. The demon who somehow had captivated him in a way Castiel though wasn't possible for an angel. Or anyone for that matter. She wasn't his Dean, but she was still a weak spot for him. Castiel couldn't seem to want to let her go. But she wasn't enough, not enough of a reason for him to stay. She was a demon, after all, and Castiel barely knew her. Besides the extreme tension between them, Castiel couldn't place why he like her anyways. It was something, Cas just didn't know what.

But then Dean's voice came. And Dean's voice was a sweeter sound than all of heaven's most immaculate angelic choir, better even than the sound of God's creations chirping their way through the morning. It was that single word, the one that held so much meaning even in itself, without the infliction of worry and concern and hope that was echoing in Dean's voice right now. _Cas?_

"I remember you." Castiel turned slowly around. Meg looked guarded and a little concerned for just a demon. Then his eyes fell on Dean. Dean who was always trying not to show his emotions, but read like an open book right now. All the pain and the hope and the disappointment of the past. And the fear. Fear of Cas maybe. Fear of what Cas could do. It never would have crossed Cas's mind that it was actually quite the opposite, it was the fear of losing his Cas.

"I remember everything. What I did. What I became. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Sam is dying in there." Sam, who was just as much Dean's world as Dean was Cas's world. Cas couldn't imagine if someone had done that to Dean, how he would feel. Castiel would never be able to forgive someone who hurt his person like that. So why in the world was Dean acting like he forgave Cas?

"Because of me." Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Cas continued. "Everything. All these people."

Suddenly it was too much, the weight of everything he had done, all of the lives he had greedily taken. And for what? For power? That he'd only ever gotten because he loved Dean so very dearly.

"I shouldn't be here." Cas burst between the two of them, head low and legs moving as quickly as he could.

"Cas. CAS!" Dean shouted at him. Or for him. No, at him. Cas kept his head down and kept going. "You stay here. CAS!" 

Cas heard Dean speak to Meg, roughly and with no room to argue. When it came to things as big as this though, Meg's opinion wouldn't matter much. This was the world Cas was talking about, the world he'd wrecked so dearly.

Dean caught up to him at the hill, but Cas just trudged on, not looking at Dean but unable to tune out his words.

"If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time." Cas couldn't listen to this. Not from Dean. Castiel didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve Dean's trust, or his friendship, and certainly not whatever Dean was feeling right now to be looking so determined.

"Don't defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in heaven? On earth?" Cas spun around, forcing Dean to stop in his tracks. What part of this did Dean not understand? "We didn't part friends, Dean."

Dean heard that, he heard it clearly. And it was true, they hadn't. But when they did part, Dean had realized how much more Cas had meant to him than a friend. And Cas had to know that. Honestly, fuck whatever argument they had been in when Cas parted. It didn't matter now. Now there was a chance, a chance for them, and a future, and fixing everything. Dean just wanted his angel back. So he truly meant it when he spoke his next two words. He poured every "i love you," "i'm sorry," and everything in between he'd never gotten to say into those words.

"So what?"

Castiel looked at Dean. He'd heard him. Heard the forgiveness. Heard how much Dean cared. And there was something else in there too, something Cas hadn't seen Dean direct at him before. Some kind of quiet submission that was somehow defiant and ready to protect those words for all of eternity. Cas didn't know what had changed in Dean, what Dean had realized when Cas was gone. Whatever it was, it changed the way Dean looked at Cas. It was like Dean wasn't afraid anymore. What Dean had been afraid of, Cas had no idea.

"It's too late to fix it ( _us_ ) now." Cas was quiet now, that "so what" had changed something. "So why did I even walk out of that river?"

Dean just breathed for a moment, looking at Cas like he was the antidote to all evil. How could Dean be so very wrong?

"Maybe _to_ fix it." Cas looked away. Dean and his eternal optimism, his eternal faith in Cas that Cas never understood. "Wait."

Dean bent over and unlocked the trunk of the Impala. Castiel watched him as he reached inside, hands going straight for something that actually seemed to have a designated place amongst all of the chaos that was Dean's organizational skills. Dean pulled a bundle out, hands as gentle as a golden retriever handling it's master's baby. He stared at it for a moment, his head bowed like he held a thousand memories in his hands. Cas turned his gaze from Dean to the bundle.

Recognition dawned on Cas. It was his trenchcoat. Dean had his trenchcoat. Dean had fished it out of the river, and kept it all this time. In the same place he kept everything important to him. Cas didn't know what to say. Or what to think. Dean had lifted his head, Cas could feel his gaze on Cas's face. Cas looked up, met his eyes. The way Dean was looking at him, so much emotion and pain and, if Castiel wasn't mistaken, that looked like love. It couldn't be. How could it be?

Then Dean outstretched his arm, offering up the trenchcoat to Cas. Cas stared for another moment before he reached out, letting Dean place the trenchcoat in his outstretched arms. Their fingers brushed, and Dean lingered for a moment before he pulled his hands back. It was hard to look at Dean, Castiel was still so confused. So he looked down at the familiar fabric instead. Cas carefully unfolded it, making sure to hold it up so it didn't drag on the ground. Cas moved to put an arm through a sleeve when Dean grabbed onto the coat.

"Let me help you with that." Castiel considered telling Dean he was fine, he could dress himself, but the look in Dean's eyes made him change his mind.

"Yeah, alright." Castiel turned as Dean pulled the trenchcoat over Cas's arms and up on his shoulders. Dean lifted it, smoothing out the fabric across Cas's shoulderblades. Castiel shivered automatically at the caress. Dean pulled Cas's shoulder gently until Castiel turned to face him. Dean looked him up and down, a brief smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Castiel looked down at himself and straightened out one of the lapels before he looked back up at Dean.

"Thank you." It was for a lot more than the trenchcoat, but Dean knew that. He clapped Cas on the shoulder, lingering a moment to rub his thumb in a circle into the muscle there. 

"Yeah. Now what do you say we go back to kicking some ass?"


	85. Assiduously (Party On, Garth  07x18)

Dean hadn't kept the room at the motel while Sam was in the hospital, so they didn't have a room to drive back to after that entire Hallucifer shit was over. Dean was doing everything he could not to think about Cas, not to think about what Dean never got to tell him. Not in so many words, anyways. Dean had only had his Castiel back for about ten minutes, after he actually remembered Dean. And then Cas was gone again, except this time his mind was entirely insane, not missing certain fragments. It killed Dean to leave him there, but honestly, he wasn't as worried as if Cas had been alone. It sounded crazy, Dean knew, but for some reason knowing that Meg was watching out for Cas actually made Dean feel better. True, she was a demon, but she was also in love with the angel. Dean knew the look, he'd seen it in the mirror and he'd seen it on Meg's face. So she'd do nearly anything for him, protect him, comfort him. Give him the kind of love Dean couldn't. That was another reason Dean had to leave him there. The kind of love that Cas's type of selflessness deserved, Dean couldn't give to him. Meg probably couldn't either, but there was always a chance.

So, angelless and motel roomless, Dean was driving Baby, his (finally) sane brother in shotgun. Dean had spent the past couple of hours watching Sam almost as much as he was watching the road. Dean needed to know if this actually worked, if Sam was 100% okay. And from everything that Dean had observed, Sam was. And if Sam was finally alright, for the first time since forever ago, Dean had some things on his agenda they needed to get done.

Dean was still feeling the aftermath of a near mental breakdown that came on as he realized Sam was dying. So his (emotions) mental processes were still kind of overtuned than normal. Sam had almost died, for godsake, and Dean was fairly sure he'd never get the image of Sam giving up out of his head. Of Sam, his hair tucked behind his ears meticulously by Dean, propped up on the white bed in a white room where his skin actually seemed to match. It was terrifying. Dean needed to replace those images with some much better ones.

Dean finally found a place a couple hundred miles from where Cas was in Illinois. It was this little town, one of those small-town feel hell holes that had locally ran diners and lots of farmland. And abandoned parking lots behind dark buildings that probably hadn't been open for a decade. Sam watched out the window curiously as Dean suddenly hitched a right and took Baby back behind a building that had faded white letters on a sign that looked like it could have been blue at one point. The only letters Dean could make out was a C and two Z's, so he had basically no idea what is was. Well, besides long-since-abandoned that is.

The parking lot behind the building was fairly large, with trees surrounding two of the sides and an immense field of cotton on another. Dean pulled in a little closer to the cotton field than any of the other borders. He put Baby in park, carefully placing the keys in the cupholder. Sam turned to Dean and looked at him curiously. Dean smiled, more with his eyes than his mouth, although it wasn't as much a happy smile as it was an appreciative one. Then he reached out and placed his hand on Sam's cheek, his thumb smoothing at his skin before he slid it down to the corner of Sam's lips, his eyes following his gaze.

"I almost thought I lost you there." Dean's words were quiet, and he flicked his gaze back up to Sam's eyes. Sam looked sympathetic and sorry, his eyes full of as much raw emotion as Dean's.

"Yeah, me too." Dean tipped his head down for a moment, his hand stilling on the seam of Sam's lips. Dean breathed in, out, once or twice until he got a grip on himself. He hated being emotional, but Sam did that to him. A lot. Dean lifted his head back up, watching the worry slowly disappear from Sam's eyes. 

"What do you say we make up for some lost time?"

Then Sam was undressed and under Dean on the back seat, Dean's hands feathering strokes down Sam's ribcage as he slowly pushed into him, his rhythm deep and gradual. Sam let out a low groan as Dean dug his fingers into the skin of Sam's wing muscles. 

Sam was tight around Dean, nearly suffocating him with stars and a need for friction. The slow pace was torturing them both but Dean needed this, needed to feel every inch of his skin moving against Sam's. Sam had almost died, goddamnit. As Dean looked down at Sam's breathless, shadowed face, he suddenly remembered the look on Sam's face in that hospital bed, that total hopelessness, Sam's surety that he would die. Dean tilted his hips back then drove them forward as far as they would go, sinking himself so deeply in Sam he couldn't breathe for a moment. 

Sam let out a little cry, but Dean didn't move any, just stayed where he was, stilling as deeply in Sam as he could be. Sam squirmed a little bit, breathlessly calling out Dean's name in a plea, to please bring back the sweet movement between them. Dean just dipped his head down instead, letting it hang down so his eyes weren't on Sam's anymore. Dean took in a shaky breath, barely able to think with Sam so tight and hot around him. After collecting himself, Dean dragged his gaze back to Sam's, taking in the purling bruises on Sam's collarbone and neck on the way up. Sam was looking at him with a mix of worry, and this intense emotion that Dean had finally come to let himself think of as love.

"Sam." It was the only word Dean never had trouble saying, no matter his state of mind. Sam reached up for Dean, his hand stroking Dean's cheek gently, wordlessly asking him what was wrong. Dean had to take a few deep breaths again in order not to collapse. Why he had decided that now, suffocatingly deep inside of Sam, was a good time to do this, Dean had no idea. He leaned his cheek into Sam's hand, closing his eyes for a moment. His biceps would get tired soon, propping his entire body weight up like this. Normally Sam's body and sweet breathy moans were more than enough of a distraction from the slight burn in his muscles, but now in the still silence Dean could notice it. Other things, too. Like the way Sam's collarbones became more defined as he breathed in, his chest expanding and contracting in time with Dean's. 

"Sam, I need you to promise me something." The words were cut up and breathy. Sam closed his eyes and rolled his hips a little. Dean let him, closing his eyes too and reveling in the friction between them. 

"Anything." Dean opened his eyes again to see Sam's gaze on him. A moan escaped Dean's lips, at the intimacy of this moment, this thing between them. The thing Dean had almost just lost forever. The thing Sam had almost just given up on and thrown away.

"Promise me," Dean lowered his head to Sam's mouth, placing a warm open kiss against him. Sam chased Dean's mouth as Dean pulled away a few seconds later. He leaned his forehead down to rest on Sam's. "Promise me you'll never give up. That you'll never give up your life, because I can't. I can't do this without you. Okay? Don't you ever scare me like that again."

"I promise Dean. I promise." Sam tilted his chin up to meet Dean's mouth with his own again. Dean kissed him back, long and assiduously.

The heat between them began to build again and Dean was suddenly painfully aware of Sam's tight heat closing in around him. With a low, drawn out moan, Dean lifted himself back to hovering over Sam, slowly pulling his hips out an inch. He felt oversensitized, the rough pull of the velvet inside Sam dragging along his cock. Sam bit his lip, hard enough to leave teeth marks, to repress the sound bubbling from his chest and threatening to escape. 

Dean pulled himself almost all the way out of Sam, wincing a bit at each inch, until just the head of his cock still nestled inside his brother. Dean spit into his hand, reaching down to reinforce the already present lubricant with just a bit more moisture. Then he slid himself hilt deep into Sam again, rotating his hips forward and dipping his head down to bite along the base of Sam's neck. It wasn't long at all before the long, steady strokes started to build a coil in Dean's abdomen. Dean breathed out Sam's name, broken around his heavy pants, a whispered warning of his soon to be release. Sam locked his feet together and pulled Dean in deeper, causing a strangled sound to elicit from Dean's already parted lips. 

Dean lifted one of his hands off of Baby's backseat, running it down the sweat of Sam's chest before wrapping his fingers around the base of Sam's cock and pulling up in a long stroke to match the pumping of his hips. Dean slid his thumb over the slit, combining the pearled precum there with the sweat on his palm to slick his way back down. The breathy moans escaping Sam's mouth elicited Dean to keep going, upping the intensity and quickening the pace of his hips and hand. Dean pushed and pulled, bringing them both building up to a climax faster and faster. 

Sam's eyes locked on Dean's as he reached up a shaky hand to cup Dean's face. The intensity in Sam's eyes, the stark contrast of his gentle hand on Dean's cheek to the tight heat of the inside of his body surrounding Dean, was enough to come on alone. Dean pulled his hips back again, driving deep into Sam and targeting his prostate easily. 

"De-dean!" Sam's body suddenly convulsed, his gentle hand on Dean's cheek quickly wrapping around to the back of Dean's neck, gripping him close as Sam's back arched and his eyes glossed over, mouth parted in his cries. Sam painted both of their chests as his cock pulsed, his ass tightening around Dean in his convulsions. Then Sam slipped from sight and all Dean saw was stars, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave. Dean blindly rode them through their orgasms, and practically collapsed on top of Sam as soon as the bright flashes of stars in front of his eyes began to fade. 

When Dean opened his eyes, after who knows how long, Sam had shifted their hips to the side a bit, so that Dean's right arm was on the blanket he'd layed down over the leather and his right shoulder blade was pressed up against the back of the seat. Most of his weight was still on top of Sam though, Dean's head resting on Sam's clavical and tucked in beneath Sam's ear, his mouth gently brushing the skin of Sam's neck. Sam must have felt the flutter of Dean's eyelashes against his skin, because he reached up a hand to stroke from Dean's cervical down to his lumbar, Sam's hand sliding slickly through the sweat sheen on Dean's back. As nice as this was, Dean's now much softer cock was still in Sam, and there was Sam's sticky mess between both of their chests. Dean stayed for just one more moment though, closing his eyes again to breathe in the scent of Sam, mixed in with the smell of sex, the sweet muskiness making Dean shiver.

"I love you." The words were quiet and reserved, Sam sounding immensely drained. The corners of Dean's mouth curled up in a smile.

"Yeah, me too." Dean lifted his head to look at Sam, who looked like he was about to pass out any minute. Sam still hadn't gotten the chance to sleep since Cas had saved him, so his eyes kept threatening to drift shut. Dean smiled lightly at the idea of Sam finally sleeping, then he pushed himself up and off of Sam's chest, pulling his hips backwards to drag out of Sam. It sparked a bit of pain, but Dean would survive. That reminded him though, the pain.

Dean reached up his hand and traced over the outline of where Sam's ribs would be, his fingers just brushing the skin and very careful. Dean did remember the reason Sam had ended up in the hospital in the first place, after getting flipped into the air by a goddamn car. Sam's gaze didn't stutter though, and his chest expanded like normal. Except now there was giz on Dean's fingertips, which he decided to childishly paint over Sam's hipbone. Sam rolled his eyes, the normally extremely sassy expression just looking tired. Dean would let him go to sleep, he would, he just had to make sure Sam was okay first.

"How are your ribs doing?" Sam raised his eyebrows a bit like he'd forgotten they'd ever been a problem. Then he opened his mouth to speak, a yawn escaping first.

"They're fine. I think Cas fixed them the rest of the way when he tried to fix my head the first time." Dean nodded. That made sense. And he was glad too, because he had been kind of crushing Sam's ribcage for a bit. Now that Sam was okay though, there was no reason not to let the kid sleep. So sleep it was.

"Alright, Sleeping Beauty, it's rest time for you." Sam smiled lightly, reaching up to wrap his arms slowly around Dean's back. Dean lowered himself back down to Sam, and Sam rolled them over on their sides, barely fitting on the seat together. But pressed as close as they were, legs entangled and hips and chests flush, there was just another room. Sam's lips pressed a soft kiss to Dean's forehead and then Sam was out like a light, his body instantly relaxing around Dean's as he finally got to sleep. 

Dean didn't sleep as easily though, and spent most of the night holding Sam and thinking, thinking about Sam and about Cas. Who Dean had to leave behind before he ever got to say it. What he'd been thinking. Dean's mind drifted, from the angel, and from the stars he'd seen earlier, coming into Sam's body. If one had sex with an angel, Dean wondered if you'd see a flash of bright light instead of stars. Dean would probably never know.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They'd gotten the call from Garth the next evening, after Dean had cleaned them both up and they'd spent the day driving and talking and stopping at diners and gas stations for food. There was nothing very remarkable about that day, not in events, but Sam had been better than he had in a long time despite. He'd gotten sleep, lots of it, and he was in the car with a beautiful boy. And for the first time since jumping into Lucifer's pit, wait, actually even before that. For the first time since Dean had picked Sam up from Stanford, Sam wasn't having hallucinations, or demon problems, or visions of Lucifer, either tantalizing him to say yes or just tantalizing him in general. He felt like it was almost too good to be true, and well, it was. Sam may have gotten off the hook, but Cas hadn't. Just as he'd gotten back too, he'd taken another swing for them. 

Dean may have been pretending to be fine, but Sam knew he wasn't taking this whole thing with Cas very well. He called Meg about nine times that day, and when she finally picked up, just a bit before Garth called, Sam could hear from the onesided conversation that it wasn't good. Sam knew this was hard for both of them, for Dean having to make the decision between Cas and Sam, although by the sounds of it, Cas had made the decision more than Dean had. Which actually made Sam feel worse, because Sam had done virtually nothing to help out Cas, and here Cas was, throwing away his sanity and future and life that he'd just gotten back, for Sam. It kind of made Sam feel like shit.

But then, having a case, and being around Garth's ridiculousness, Sam was pretty sure it helped them both. Garth sure was one hell of a distraction, with his innuendos and constant side comments that left Sam wondering just what all Garth knew. When Garth mentioned that they were free to use the jacuzzi, just to be sure to "clean up after themselves," which had been followed by a wink, Sam was pretty sure Garth had either been told that he and Dean were dating, or he'd figured it out for himself. Either way, all of his comments kept making Sam picture things, like Dean in a jacuzzi, and it was not doing anything for his focus on the case. Or his upstairs brain at all. 

Sam was feeling pent up and frustrated, desperately longing for Dean's rush expanse of freckled skin beneath his hands. But with Garth around, that wasn't happening anytime soon. And it seemed like somehow, Garth was always around. Although that was partially Dean not trusting Garth's hunting skills to be as efficient as theirs, (although honestly, who's were) and insisting one of them partner with Garth anytime they split up.

Eventually though, Sam and Dean left Garth on his own as they went to go check out the office of one of the co-owners of Thighslapper. Sam was tapping into the computer, specifically, the camera system, when Dean leaned over the back of his chair. Dean had leaned in next to Sam's face a hundred million times, back since they had been kids. At first, Sam had been happy to show Dean his research, eager to please. Then Sam had gotten annoyed, complaining to Dean and bitching about the job in general. Then, after Stanford, there had been a sort of tension there, as Dean's body surrounded Sam's, his eyes reading the text on the screen and Sam's eyes shifty and doing everything he could not to think about Dean. Over the years since then, they'd finally given into their feelings, and now the tension that came with Dean being behind him like this just made Sam even more sexually frustrated.

They were in the middle of a case though, and this wasn't exactly a good place for a hookup. They never stayed longer than necessary after breaking and entering. But then, Dean suddenly had a horribly wonderful suggestion. They couldn't see the spirit on the tape, but then again, they weren't drunk. Dean sat a bottle of some form of alcohol next to Sam, accompanied by a glass. After Dean sat them down, he clapped his hands on Sam's shoulders, briefly, but still enough to make it feel boyfriendy. Sam shot a side glance at Dean, still attempting to avoid Dean's gorgeous green eyes and soft pink mouth, since he had been slightly turned on all day anyways. Sam didn't need more of that right now. 

"Tick-tock." Dean made a "go" motion with his hand, and while Sam didn't get drunk on the job, this. Well this was a special occasion and damned if he wasn't going to enjoy a new type of spirit that encouraged him to get drunk. So he poured himself out a glass. Dean kept making little obscene noises behind Sam, subconsciously popping his lips and making soft noises as he searched alcohol. It was quite torturous. 

"Wait, can you even get drunk anymore? It's kinda like uh drinking a vitamin for you, right?" Sam lifted his glass to his lips again as Dean muttered a shut up, picking up a new type of alcohol Sam hadn't seen before. Sam turned back to his glass, welcoming the slight buzz that was barely present, but getting stronger each time he tipped back his head to gulp down more of the poison. Then he turned back around and watched Dean some more, although he had no reason to, his judgement was slightly clouding and damned if Dean wasn't beautiful with his lips wrapped around the edge of that bottle. Then Dean was walking closer, filling his glass and standing close to Sam. Sam was still sitting though, so he was basically at crotch height right now. Not that he was staring or anything. And it wasn't like he'd been frustrated for fivefreakingever. 

Sam tilted his glass a bit to clank against Dean's, a toast to make them both drunk. Sam's eyes followed the glass up to Dean's lips though, watching him drink before he took another swig for himself. Then it was just a pattern, refilling glasses and tipping back heads, Sam staring straight forward and zoning in on the alcohol so he didn't just get out of the chair and bend Dean over the desk. Which wow, sounded extremely awesome right now.

"Alright, rewind and go." Sam fumbled with the mouse a bit, but managed to get the security footage back to where the boy came in here. Then, wait, damn. There was a creepy ass looking white lady. Except she was a white asian lady. Sam kind of giggled a bit at that.

"Woah." Dean leaned forward, but was honestly still much too far away. Wait, spirit. Focus on the spirit.

"So he let that thing out of the box, it must have just followed him to the place. with. all the thingies." 

"Yes. Yes." Sam turned to Dean, both of them staring at each other like they were starving. "That's smart."

Then Dean leaned back in his chair, tipping his glass around a bit to swish the contents. Sam looked back at the screen for a moment, then turned around at Dean's next words.

"Ah, I'm actually kinda drunk. What is this? Me likey." Dean lifted the glass to his lips again, his pink cupid bow shaped plump delicious lips and damned if Sam wasn't going to have those against his mouth in the next five seconds. His pants had tightened considerably at Dean's breathy words of being "kinda drunk" and oh god there was no way Sam could resist that. Not even if he was sober. Well, maybe if he was sober. Or maybe not. But who the hell cares.

Sam reached out and took Dean's glass, his fingers brushing across Dean's hand in the process. Dean looked up at Sam, his mouth parted slightly in some form of registering a question. Sam set Dean's glass down carefully on the desk, then reached his other hand out, grabbing both into the fabric of Dean's jacket.

"C'mere." Sam licked his lips after the request, tugging on Dean's clothes. It took Dean a moment to register what that meant, then he was scrambling upright and over to Sam. Dean threw his legs out on either side of the chair, sitting down clumsily on Sam's lap. Sam's body ignited with heat, a delicious, wanting heat, and he reached up to grab Dean's hips and grind them down on his own. Dean threw his head back and full out moaned, a loud filthy sound that filled the room and made Sam harden even more. Which he didn't think was possible.

Dean's erection rubbed against Sam's stomach through his jeans, and Sam's rubbed against Dean's ass. The feeling of it was incredible and entirely consuming. Dean grinded his ass down on Sam's dick and Sam's breath caught in his throat as the tenting of his pants fit between the crease in Dean's ass, somehow still so warm and inviting through all of those layers of clothes. Then Sam reached up and grabbed onto Dean's face, pulling it down to his own and attaching his mouth to Dean's. Dean's hands lifted to Sam's face and gripped it tight too, his tongue sweeping inside Sam's mouth. Sam could taste the ridiculously strong taste of the alcohol Dean had been drinking, and it made his eyes water. Then nothing else matter besides the movement of Dean's mouth against his, the filthy wet noises it made and the ones escaping Dean's throat, the little whimpers and soft punched groans. Sam's entire body was on fire, with so much pleasure and need, and his hips bucked up agaomst Dean's, more friction now and so delicious, oh god. 

Sam got lost in the movements, their hips slowly getting faster against each other, and Dean grinding down harder and harder, driving Sam insane. And the way Dean bit as his bottom lip, and sweeped his tongue inside of Sam's mouth, licking the alcohol right off of Sam's tongue. Sam was making some noises himself, feeling needy and so extremely turned on, with Dean here, grinding against him so sweet and the taste of their combined alcohols on their tongues and oh this was the best overload of sensations Sam had ever-

"What the hell?!" A loud voice interrupted the sweet slide of their tongues and hips and Dean was suddenly not on Sam's lap anymore and Sam was suddenly very confused, reaching out for Dean. Who happened to be on the ground on his ass, his mouth open in a shocked "o." God, Dean's lips were bright red and swollen, bruised by kisses and Sam's sucking mouth and tongue, and oh god, that was so beautiful, Sam just needed more of that. Sam's eyes darted down to Dean's erection, and the dark spot on the front of his jeans caused by precum and Sam reached out a hand for Dean, to scoop him back up in Sam's lap. Then the voice spoke again and Sam's eyes left Dean's, suddenly realizing there was someone else in the room.

"FBI, huh? You know what, just save it for the cops." Then Dean was trying to speak, protest, explain, and Sam did his best to try to help but god if this wasn't extremely all hazy and nothing in the room was clear besides Dean. And Dean's mouth. And the outline of his dick through his pants. And goddamnit, Sam just wanted Dean up on his lap again. He had to get this guy to go away, seriously, right now.

"Woah woah, Mr. Baxter (hey, Sam had remembered his name!), if you'd just let us explain, I'm sure-"

Then Mr. Baxter made a funny noise and he was on the ground and Garth was standing there and there were coils and was that a taser? And where the hell was Dean and why wasn't he on Sam's lap right now? Then Dean looked over at Sam, his face extremely shocked and Sam returned the surprise. Wow, Garth had just saved their asses. But speaking of asses, _Deeaann's_.

But Then Garth was trying to lift the tasered man and Dean got up off of his feet, thanks to Sam's hand that was still outstretched, and in the processes, almost tugging Sam off of his chair and on top of Dean. Which would have been fine with Sam. But then Dean was stumbling over to help Garth and he had to bend down and Sam really should help but there was Dean's perfect ass, that beautiful round thing that was all Sam's, and up in the air, and Sam may possibly only have left his chair for that reason. But by the time he made it to Dean, Dean had stood again and they were attempting to carry the guy out of the office. Which Sam got solicited to help with.

This wasn't faaiirr, Sam needed Dean. Right Now. God, he better get some more alone time quick, or else Sam was going to have to go get rid of this growing dilemma on his own.

Thankfully though, they got some alone time after they took the box to the awesome asian guy at the one restaurant. After he translated, they were in a hurry yeah, but Sam still had enough time to do this with Dean, right? As soon as the guy went back in his shop, Sam grabbed Dean and slammed him up against the nearest brick wall. Dean let out a surprised yelp which Sam swallowed down as he attached their mouths and got back to bruising Dean's perfect lips. Sam's hands instantly went to Dean's ass this time, squeezing the round flesh in his hands and moaning at the sounds Dean made.

But then Dean was pulling his mouth off of Sam's, and what the hell? Sam tried chasing it, but Dean had sobered up quicker than Sam had, and could evade him much to easily. Sam finally huffed and drew back from his chase.

"Deaaann," Sam whined, for once not caring that he was whining.

"Sammy, we're working a case and people are dying, man."

"But Deaaannn!"

"Later Sammy, okay? I promise." Sam huffed out his bottom lip and spun on his heel, about to stalk back to the car when Dean smacked his ass. Even that, the sting of Dean's palm on his ass, even that made him want Dean even more. But then Sam hustled back to the car, on principle of acting like a good boy, and so they could get this damn case overwith and Sam could smack Dean's ass all he liked.

Which he was so going to do, by the way.


	86. Schmaltzy (Of Grave Importance  07x19)

"You know uh. You know she and Bobby had a thing, right?" Dean raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sam. 

"Yeah." Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, amused at his tone. Dean had had no idea. Sam's face said he knew it, too, based on his smug expression behind the rim of his coffee mug. 

They were sitting at a nice restaurant, at least nicer than usual for them, waiting for Annie. It was a little odd not to be sitting either next to Dean or directly across from him, but Sam wasn't going to be the one to mention it. That would be a definite excuse for Dean to call him a schmaltzy, then they'd get into their at-least-weekly argument over who was more of a girl. As insulting as some of the things were that they threw at each other, those arguments always ended up with the winner fucking the loser into oblivion in an exaggerated show of dominance. And considering that Sam honestly didn't mind whether he was the one taking Dean's wrath, or laying it into Dean, Sam tended to like those arguments just fine. But now was definitely not the time for that argument, because well, Annie knew they were brothers. So that meant they had to temporarily stop being boyfriends, or at least pretend for a little while. Which was going to mean a shitton of sexual tension on both of their ends. But hey, at least they got to see Annie again.

"Really?" Dean looked over at Sam and Sam grinned.

"Yeah. Kind of a foxhole thing – very Hemingway."

"Huh." Dean raised his phone to his ear and pretended to look very disinterested. He was actually really surprised at this though. After a moment or two, he figured he may as well say it. It was a while ago, and it wasn't like Sam and he had been in a relationship long enough for it to conflict anyways. "She and I kind of went Hemingway this one time, too."

"All right, well... that happens." Dean was listening to the ringing chimes of Annie's phone in his ear as Sam spoke, but the face Sam made caught his attention majorly. It was his "well shit happens I guess oops?" face. Dean's jaw dropped a little bit.

"What, you too?" Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, leaning in a bit towards Sam. 

"Look, it was a while back. We ended up on the same case. She was stressed. I-I-I... I didn't... have a soul." Sam quirked up his mouth at the end of his speech and Dean suddenly had an extreme desire to lean across the table and capture Sam's mouth with his lips, but if Annie showed up. That would be disasterous. So Dean just bit his lip and put the phone back to his ear.

"That's a lot of foxholes." Sam raised his eyebrows in agreement. Goddamn, Sam was being cute today. So not fair, what the hell. Dean shut his phone, after like the gagillionth ring. "She's not answering. Well, here's to ghosts that aren't there."

Dean poured some whiskey from his flask into his coffee mug. Surprisingly, Sam didn't give him shit about it. Probably because he was too focused on the ghosts that weren't here.

"You sound kind of disappointed." Sam was being generous, Dean knew Sam knew exactly how Dean felt. Sam could tell just by glancing at him. But Dean figured he'd condole Sam regardless.

"Ah, it's better this way. I mean, even though I wish we could see him again doesn't mean that we should."

They automatically reached out the mugs for each other, clinking them together and tipping them back in tandem. Dean thought for a brief moment how many times they'd done that in their lifetimes. Probably thousands. Or more. It still gave Dean an awesome tingly feeling though, the feeling of camaraderie and of the companionship he had with Sam. It was schmaltzy, sure, but so long as it was in Dean's head it was fine.

"Ahh." Dean looked around the restaurant, scanning just to make sure Annie wasn't here. Which was really freaking weird. "Are we being stood up?"

"Yeah, let's hope that's all this is."

Dean chewed on his lip for a moment then side-glanced at Sam. He just had a really great idea.

"Unless, you, uh. Wanted it to be more." Sam furrowed his eyebrows at Dean in confusion.

"I'm not following." Dean dipped his head for a second to hide his grin, then he leveled his gaze with Sam again, swirling his mug around to mix in the whiskey.

"Well, you, or at least soulless you, went Hemingway with Annie. And so did I... so if we ever meet up with her, we could. uh. You know. Go Hemingway together."

Sam sat in silence for a moment as the words soaked in. Dean pinpointed the exact moment Sam got what he was saying, Sam's jaw dropping instantly and his eyebrows shooting up like a rocket.

"Are you suggesting a _threesome?_ "

"What? I mean, it could be fun, and we've both been with her before so-"

"Dean, she knows we're brothers."

"Okay, well, major drawback, but maybe-"

"And honestly, Dean? As "fun" as that sounds, I, uh." Sam ducked his head and a blush creeped up on his cheeks a bit. Then he cleared his throat and looked up at Dean again, a little more confidence in his words. "I don't think I'd want to share you with anyone. Like, if we had a threesome, I'm pretty sure she'd end up getting ignored. At least, by me that is. I mean, not to be all sappy or anything, but I. I don't really need anything besides you."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment before he took a sip of his whiskey-coffee. Sam was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer with a little bit of worry in his eyes. Dean sat the mug back down, smacking his lips loudly. Then he looked back at Sam again.

"Yeah, that's extremely sappy." A grin broke out on Sam's face and he play punched Dean's bicep.

"Shutup." 

Dean grinned and looked down at his mug, swishing it again and watching the liquids mix. 

"I get it though. I didn't think of that, but yeah. You've got a point. She'd probably get ignored. I've never had a threesome where I'm actually interested in one person wayyy more than the other, so yeah. I guess it wouldn't work out."

Sam let out a breath Dean was pretty sure he'd been holding that whole time. Just because Sam was so opposed to it, Dean had to bring it up one more time. Even if he totally didn't mean it now. Or, well, maybe a little bit.

"One of these days, though. One of these days I'll find someone who'd look good bouncing on your cock while she sucks me off. It's happening one day, Sammy." 

Sam choked on his drink, spitting a little bit out onto the table at Dean's words. Dean threw his head back and laughed. That was perfect. Sam looked up at him like a puppy that had just been kicked in the ribs. Dean raised his eyebrows in a teasing gesture, his foot finding Sam's underneath the table and tapping it lightly. 

"Can we go now?" Sam scooted back his chair and made a face at Dean. Dean grinned again, winning that round too.

"Whatever you want, princess." Yeah, Sam was so going to get his payback later, but Dean couldn't wait. Annie wasn't here, clearly, so as they walked around the table to each other's sides, Dean stopped, his hand to Sam's chest to stop him, too. Then Dean leaned up, on his tiptoes with his free hand cupping Sam's jawline. Then he pulled Sam's head down a bit, meeting their mouths somewhere in the middle. It felt awesome, and Dean totally had to fight the urge to back Sam up against the table and just take him then and there. But they were in public, and pushing it anyways with their homosexual display of affection. So Dean pulled back, regrettably, and just looked at Sam. Sam looked surprised, but happy. And hungry for more. Dean ran his thumb once over Sam's cheek, a silent promise of _later_. Then Dean's mouth quirked up in a quick grin.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to share that with anyone. That's all mine." 

Sam grinned back, his eyes a little mischievous.

"Whatever you want, princess." Anndd so the girl-name-calling battle has commenced again. Dean simply couldn't wait to see who won.


	87. Propensity (The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo  07x20)

"Hey, there's a big-ass guard up here, blocking the door. What do I do?"

"Just wait him out." Dean shot Sam a glance. Sam had been watching Dean calmly tell Charlie things, and Sam could remember being the one asking once, a long time ago. Back when Sam was just a kid, like 10 or 11, Dean had talked him into a museum over the phone. They'd needed some random artifact and Sam was the only one small enough to fit in the vents. So Dean had honey-talked him through it, only making one bitchy comment throught the entire heist. Sam had wondered at the time why Dean hadn't screwed with him more, but Sam finally came to the conclusion that Dean somehow heard his heartbeat through the phone and knew how nervous he was. Whatever the reason, Sam had been grateful. And now Dean was doing the same for Charlie, walking her through with that sweet calm voice that was making a smile creep on Sam's face. 

"He's not going anywhere." 

"Okay, uh, you work there every day." Logic. That would help with nerves. "Do you know the guy?"

"I guess. I mean, I've seen him. I've never talked to him."

"Okay, when you've seen him, does he look at you, or does he just kind of slide his eyes by?" Sam watched Dean watch the screen, the amount of concern in Dean's eyes was actually quite adorable.

"Um... eye contact? I don't know. He always kind of smiles a bit. I don't really -" Goodness Charlie could ramble. Dean shot Sam a glance, and Sam instantly saw Dean's plan. It was a good enough plan, but Sam wasn't sure if Charlie was the right girl to pull it off. Hermoine wasn't exactly the flirting type.

"Good. What you're gonna do is you're gonna walk right up to him, and you're gonna flirt your way past."

"I can't. He's not my type."

"You're gonna have to play through that."

"As in he's not a girl." Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean. Dean was definitely not a homophobe, but he occasionally made retarded comments about hot lesbian action and such and now was really not the time. Dean managed to keep a handle on himself though, thankfully. Sam was quite surprised, and actually kinda proud.

"Oh, oh. Pretend he has boobs."

"Worse." Dean nodded, grimacing. He shot Sam a hopeless glance but Sam gave him a mini shrug. Sam hadn't ever flirted with a guy before. Dean didn't exactly count and Sam didn't exactly flirt with Dean anyways. Now, Dean on the other hand. Sam had given him plenty of shit about being gay before. Not that Dean appreciated any of it, but his arguments were so defense and weak it was hilarious. 

"Well, I don't know. Um... Do you have any tattoos? Give him a little sneak peek there. All tattoos are sexy." Sam rolled his eyes at that. He remembered getting their matching tattoos, how Dean had thrown a bitch fit and Sam had ended up offering to hold his hand, and had gotten whacked. Apparently having tattoos were sexy, but getting them was not.

"Mine is Princess Leia in a slave bikini straddling a 20-sided die." Dean threw a horrified look in Sam's direction. Sam was just picturing it and smirking. "I was drunk. It was Comic-Con."

"We've all been there." Sam raised his eyebrows in a surprised question at Dean. Dean didn't return the look though, shyly avoiding Sam's eyes and turning away. Sam wasn't sure he even wanted to know what Dean had done being drunk at Comic-Con. Dean had gone once right before Sam left for Stanford, and Sam had been too busy studying to go. And he kind of didn't want to. Although Dean had probably gone in the four years Sam was at college, too. God, Sam was surprised _Dean_ didn't have a slave Leia tattoo on his ass. "Okay, I'm gonna walk you through this."

As Charlie walked into the room, Sam mouthed a question at Dean. _Comic Con?_ Dean made an annoyed face but mouthed back, _I was twenty-four dude._ Sam snickered and turned back to the security screen to watch Charlie.

"Start with a smile."

Charlie pasted on a huge, scary smile. There was no way she was getting passed with that.

"Relax, Charlie. You just got home, and Scarlett Johansson's waiting for you." Sam grinned and looked over at Dean. Dean just rolled his eyes as Sam raised his eyebrows. Scarlett Johansson was an occasional topic of discussion for them, because Dean thought she was gorgeous and Sam thought her face was pointy enough to leave a mark. Sam just preferred round-faced women more. Hell, Marilyn Monroe was a classic and she had a round face. Dean only like Marilyn Monroe for the skirt picture, though. Which didn't surprise Sam at all.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"Hey...Bill. Charlie from I.T."

"Oh. Burning the midnight oil, huh?"

"Just like you – I mean, when you're not at the gym. What, do you work out with all your free time?" Sam rolled his eyes. How extremely lame was that comment.

"I try to get to the gym at least three days a week. Just trying to get back to my fighting weight, you know?"

"It shows. You look amazing." Dean's voice sounded husky and it oozed with flirtation. Even though he was just relaying the lines to Charlie, somehow Dean sounded like he was straight up flirting with the guy. Charlie's repeat sounded nowhere near as enticing as Dean's comment, something as simple as "You look amazing" sounding desperately like "fuck me." Sam turned around from the screen, putting his gaze on Dean. Dean even had the facial expressions to match. Dean caught Sam's expression this time and a blush creeped up into his cheeks.

Dean kept his flirt smile plastered on his face, but tilted his head slightly towards Sam, not meeting Sam's eyes but still clearly addressing him.

"This never happened." The words were quiet but extremely nowhere near as threatening as Dean had intended them to be. Sam was finally starting to realize just how amusing this situation was. Then Dean turned back to his mic, speaking to Charlie again. And avoiding Sam's eyes entirely. "Do you ever do anything else with your free time, like take a girl out for a drink?"

"You do anything else with your free time, like take a girl out for a drink?" Sam couldn't help not laughing, this was perfect. Dean was walking a girl through flirting with a guy and Sam was pretty sure he was just as good at it as he was with wooing girls. Sam had scooted up next to Dean, and was watching him with amused eyes as Dean talked his way into getting teased for the next millenium.

"Stop laughing, Sammy." Dean said it short and pretending annoyance, but Sam was just too amused to ignore this. Unfortunately, Charlie heard Dean's snappy comment, and repeated it back to the guy.

"Stop laughing, Sammy. Um...Y-you don't know that bar – Stop Laughing Sammy?" Sam stifled another laugh behind his hand. He was fairly sure Dean's would've clamped his palm over Sam's mouth by now if he wasn't aware of what might happen. Last time Dean tried to make Sam shut up by putting a hand over his mouth, Sam had flicked his tongue around Dean's palm, managing to swiftly pull Dean's pinky into his mouth and suck on it. Dean had nearly smacked him upside the head with surprise and annoyance, but had ended up just grabbing Sam's face and kissed the hell out of him instead. As much as Sam would love for Dean to do that right now, they were in the middle of an extremely important case. So Sam covered his mouth with his own hand. And slightly palmed at a growing tightness in his jeans with the other. 

"That place is bringing sexy back. Which is easy…"

"Stop talking, Charlie." Dean got his serious voice on, suddenly aware they might possibly lose this entire case in the three seconds it took for Charlie to ramble on enough to make the guard suspicious. Sam had to physically push his chair away from Dean, trying to get the dirty thoughts out of his head with some distance. Sam started watching the cameras again, watching and listening to the end of Charlie's conversation. She thankfully managed to get out of sight of the guard, on the way to Dick's office. As soon as she rounded the corner, the tension in the van suddenly decreased and Sam's shoulders relaxed. She wasn't out yet, but one of the scary parts was over. Charlie spoke into the headset, now that she was out of earshot.

"I feel dirty."

"You and me both, sister." Sam grinned a bit at that, hearing how relieved Dean sounded that the flirting part was over. That was the most amusing part to Sam, how Dean made a huge deal about having to flirt with a guy wen Sam teased Dean about being gay all the time. He had for years. The ease that Dean was able to pull this off with was incredible, and Sam knew from experience and a trip to Vancouver in some alternate weirdass universe that Dean was a horrible actor. So the way he was able to flirt with men was either practiced, or natural, and either way it definitely gave Sam a very valid point for his gay conversation. Dean was always arguing it, saying Sam didn't count, and then Sam brought up Dean's hugeass crush on Cas and Dean shut up. So yeah, Sam won that conversation.

"The eagle is landing. Going radio-silent." Charlie had the funniest sayings.

"Let us know when you're out." Dean wheeled his chair around next to Sam, Dean's thigh and bicep brushing up against Sam's with their proximity. Dean situated himself in front of the camera screen, one of his hands landing casually on Sam's upper thigh. Sam was pretty sure Dean didn't even notice his hand there. Not like he'd move it if he did.

"So, guess we just wait?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows impatiently and looked at the screen.

"Yeah." Charlie had barely even gotten inside the door before Dean started doing his worry face and tapping his fingers against the desk. As much as Sam enjoyed Dean's proximity, Dean's nerves were sure to set off Sam's if Sam let them, and at least one of them had to be fairly collected. So after a minute or two of Dean's worrying, Sam gently wheeled his chair away from Dean, Dean looking down for a surprised moment to see his hand slide off of Sam's thigh. So Sam had been right, Dean hadn't noticed. Dean looked guilty for a moment before he turned back to the screens, his hand suddenly forgotten as he watched Charlie. Sam busied himself making Leviathan weapons, figuring they'd end up needing some eventually anyways.

His mind, though, was on the rough gravel Dean's voice had taken on earlier. And on "getting drunk at Comic Con" and wherever the hell Dean figured out how to flirt with guys. Sam wanted to know, and he had a few method ideas of getting Dean to tell him. Most of which involved seducing him. But based on Dean's natural propensity to want to touch Sam all the time, Sam wasn't worried. In fact, he was looking forward to it.


	88. Negligible (Reading is Fundamental  07x21)

So the rock thing was pissed about being hit with a sledgehammer. Which was strange in itself, before the smaller smoother rock with writing on it, inside the bigger rock thing, came tumbling out. Dean turned it over in his hand, looking at it curiously and holding it up in what dim light this place had. There was writing on both sides, some sort of pictoral hieroglyphics. Dean held it up for Sam to see, who was standing over Dean's shoulder. Sam tilted his head curiously too, his (longass girly) hair brushing Dean's neck. Dean's collar flooded with warmth, with the proximity of Sam and the way Sam's face was _right there_ , just next to Dean's cheek. Dean looked to the side, tension building in him as he watched Sam observe the rock. 

"I have no idea what that is." Sam turned his head towards Dean a bit, looking almost surprised as he caught Dean looking at him. Dean set the lightning-inducing rock down on the table, turning his body around swiftly, his hip brushing against Sam's in the process. Now Sam was still inches away, but actually facing Dean. Dean reached out his fingers, hiking up Sam's shirts just an inch to press two fingers to the warm skin just above Sam's jeans. 

"I don't really care," Dean countered, a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Sam's eyes turned dark as his gaze flicked from Dean's eyes to his mouth and back again. 

"It's probably important, _Dean._ " Sam said his name low and drawn out, turning almost into a whisper. Dean shuddered, and Sam stepped closer, their bodies just barely touching as Sam placed his hands on the table on either side of Dean. Dean could feel the table pressing against his back, Sam crowding him up against it.

"Mmm? Nothing we can't figure out in the morning." Dean was nearly breathless already, which would be embarrassing if he wasn't so turned on right now. Sam just stared at him, not moving to close the final inches between their lips, just looking at him and driving Dean crazy. Sam reached up and touched the corner of Dean's safety glasses, which he nearly forgot he'd been wearing. Sam must have forgotten he'd been wearing them too, because now he reached up and took his off, setting them on the table behind Dean. Dean was just about to take off his own, too. When Sam's hand reached out and grabbed his. 

"I like you in glasses. Wouldn't those look nice dripping with my come?" Dean swallowed and opened his mouth to respond, but didn't have words anymore. All the blood in his body was being rushed towards his other brain and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Plenty Sam could do about it though. And just like that, Sam swooped in and was everywhere, all at once. Sam's mouth captured Dean's open lips, his tongue running across the seam of Dean's mouth and making him shiver at the same time one of Sam's huge hands reached between them and palmed at the tightness of Dean's jeans. It was all so sudden and overwhelming, Dean's head was spinning and he temporarily considered the possibility that he was either going to come, like, now, or he was going to just die on the spot. 

Thankfully, neither happened because Sam was suddenly flipping him around, bending Dean over the table. Dean's hands scrambled for purchase, scooting rock bits and some tools off to the floor. Thankfully the smoothish writing rock didn't fall, and got pressed against one of the bags Dean had left on the table, perfectly safe and cushioned. Then all the thoughts of anything besides Sam became negligible as Dean's jacket got practically ripped off his shoulders, along with his button up. Then Sam's hands were skirting his stomach as he lifted Dean's shirt over his head, baring him naked from the waist up. Dean shut his eyes, anticipation and being ridiculously turned on both threatening to end this way to soon. 

Then Sam's hands were on his jeans button, then those were being dragged to the floor too and Dean hissed with the sudden cold on his bare skin. Sam noticed and rubbed his hands over the backs of Dean's thighs quickly in an attempt to warm him up. With Sam still kneeling and Dean's horniness suddenly being paid no attention too, Dean was impatient. 

"Get up here!" Dean normally didn't bark orders when Sam was dominating, but god Dean needed him now. Sam stood slowly, a hand dragging up the back of Dean's leg as he did. Sam's hand curved up and over Dean's ass, making him press backwards against Sam through the thin fabric of his black boxers. Sam's hand just continued its decent though, running a stripe up Dean's bare back to his shoulder, grabbing on to it and pulling Dean back upright. Dean was about to complain again when Sam's mouth suddenly latched onto the skin just beneath his ear, his teeth sinking in and making Dean's vision swarm. His breath caught, then Sam's hand was sliding around Dean's chest to tweak one of his nipples. Dean made a soft pitched cry, pushing his body back against Sam's and disappointedly finding he had denim to rub against. 

"T-too much clothes." Dean managed between gasps, reaching back to fumble at Sam's shirts and jeans in vain. Then Sam detached his mouth, his tongue flicking a circle over the new hickey and causing a shudder to run down Dean's spine. Sam moved to step back, but quickly slid his hand down Dean's chest to slip beneath the band of his boxers for a moment, trailing his thumb over the head of Dean's cock before withdrawing entirely a moment later, stepping back a foot away from Dean. Dean groaned at the loss of contact, falling forward again onto the table, his head on his forearms in frustration, although careful to avoid banging his safety goggles against the table. Dean knew bending over would help Sam get undressed a bit quicker, so he was all game for teasing Sam right back. Dean's chest heaved as he tried to get a grip on his breathing, or his brain, or his cock already leaking a wet spot of precome against his boxers. It seemed like days before Dean heard the sound of Sam's jeans hitting the floor, although in reality it was probably the fastest Sam had ever got undressed. 

Dean didn't even hear Sam coming back, but suddenly Dean's boxers were pooled around his feet, the swift motion done in just a flick of Sam's fingers. Dean lifted his head and bent over a bit more, backing himself up a bit in hopes of meeting with Sam's skin again. But Sam still wasn't in reach, and Dean groaned again, pretty sure he was going to start whining in a minute. That is, until Sam's huge hand wrapped around Dean's dick, standing to his side as his talented fingers slid up the shaft. Dean gasped in surprise, bucking into Sam's hand as Sam rubbed his palm over the moisture leaking from Dean. Then Sam's hand was gone again and Dean actually did whine. But then he heard the telltale sound of Sam slicking up his cock, wait, with Dean's precome. Dean's head fell on his arms again. Sam was pushing his luck, because Dean was seriously going to come any minute now. 

Then the slick head of Sam's cock was pressed up against Dean's entrance, one of Sam's hands pressed firmly against Dean's lumbar region, the other guiding him into Dean. Dean groaned softly as Sam pushed into Dean just barely, the tight fit a little painful, but sparking up with a sharp edge as the head finally breached the inner muscles. Dean's hands curled into fists and he let out a muted cry into his arm at the sensation. Sam's hands were suddenly all over Dean's back, rubbing and soothing with their warmth.

"Dean, you okay? Is that alright?" Dean smiled a bit at the concern in Sam's voice, blinking back the involuntary tears that had began to pool at the edges of Dean's eyes. He breathed in, taking a moment to let himself stretch and adjust until the burn softened into something a bit more pleasurable.

"Mm, yeah, Sam. C'mon." Dean breathlessly egged him on until Sam relented and pushed the rest of the way to Dean, just briefly pausing once he was hilt-deep, before he drew back his hips, pulling out almost all the way. Sam paused for a moment here, and just when Dean was about to complain again, Sam tilted his hips forward and drove inside Dean, the slide much smoother now. Sam must have paused to add some sort of lubricant, hallelujah. 

Sam's hands moved from Dean's back to either side of him, gripping the edge of the table tight as he used it to brace them both. Dean could feel the edge of the table against his abs, but he was distracted enough not to mind. Dean's head was still on his forearms, resting against the weight of the table as Sam pummeled into him from behind. Dean was pretty sure he didn't have the strength to lift his head right now, so there was no point in attempting. He just stayed bent over the table, submissive and taking everything Sam was giving to him. Dean was attempting to stifle the noises that kept falling off his lips, but there wasn't much point, he'd end up shouting eventually anyways. 

Sam was placing occasional kisses and bites along Dean's back, sinking his teeth into Dean's tight flesh in time with the pumping of his hips. It was rough and messy and fast and Dean was pretty sure he'd never been more turned on. He could feel the coil in his stomach building, threatening to tear him in two over Sam's dick. Each push and grind of Sam's hips was met by a sound from Dean's now, punched, breathy sounds that could get him easily on any porn show he wanted. But that's just what Sam did to him, made him this crazy for it, crazy for him. 

It only took a few more thrusts and a groaned _Dean_ from Sam's lips before Dean lost it, his eyes seeing stars as his body convulsed under Sam, painting his stomach, and probably the underside of the table, with a white sticky warmth. Sam's name wrestled it's way from Dean's mouth, nearly a scream, before the skies took him again and the surroundings around him began to fade to black. Dean could feel Sam's warmth emptying inside of him, in some distant, still active part of his brain. Heard his name, echoed just like Sam's had been, as Sam filled him, riding over Dean through the high. Dean briefly registered Sam's lips on his back, and arms wrapping around his chest, pulling him upright. 

Saw hazel eyes, spent and content above him, so beautiful. Dean thought maybe he murmured something along those lines, staring up at those eyes. Then even those faded too and Dean rode the wave into darkness. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean woke up on the double sleeping bag they'd laid out for the two of them. He was dressed, which was a change from what he last remembered. And Sam wasn't holding him, also a change. Dean blinked a few times, sitting up and surveying the room. Sam was sitting in a chair, pulled up to the table. The table that had been put to such good use yesterday. Wow, had Dean really been that thoroughly fucked that he just passed out after his orgasm? He'd had to have been pretty tired previously. Although he didn't really remember being tired. But that was the explanation he was going with for now. Because literally falling asleep in Sam's arms minutes after he'd came was pretty damn embarrassing. Not to mention he'd left Sam with the cleanup. Sam had even dressed him, too. Dean sure had picked an interesting one.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, pausing at his eyes and squeezing the top of his nose to clear the minor headache from sitting up too fast. Then he stood, stumbling a bit and almost falling on his ass, before he winced and straightened up. Damn, he was sore from yesterday. He made his way carefully over to the sink, flipping on the light with one hand before bracing himself against the washbin. He was really close to falling over which would be really embarrassing. Again. God. 

Dean ran the water, cupping his hands to splash some on his face. Dean was vaguely aware of Sam watching some news report on his computer, turned up loud enough it made sense Sam hadn't heard him wake. Then Dean reached for the towel, patting his face dry before he heard a slight scraping sound. He lowered the towel, just in time to see a cup scoot across the wood. 

"Bobby?" Sam turned his head towards Dean, aware of him now, but silent in listening for Bobby.

"Bobby, that you?" Dean looked around, suddenly conscious that they may not have been alone last night. Awkwarrddd.

"Think so." Sam held up the buzzing EMF reader. "That whole adventure with Roman seems to have drained his batteries."

Dean made his way over to Sam, walking slowly and carefully, still feeling all of the effects of last night. Majorly. He was much slower this morning than he usually was, still drying his face on his walk, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he went.

"So what, we start the storm heard round the world?" Dean paused a few feet away from Sam, looking down at the awkward scribbled on rock. Sam pointed to it, his finger tapping the stone a few times as he spoke.

"When we broke open this thing last night, every maternity ward in a hundred mile radius got slammed." That wasn't the only thing that had been broken open and slammed last night. "Looks like any woman in the last month of her pregnancy went into labor."

"Hmm." Dean scooted a little closer and picked up the tablet. He was leaning over Sam's shoulder like this, practically how Sam had been leaning over his yesterday. Dean straightened up, taking the rock with him. As much as he would love a repeat of last night's episode, Dean was still groggy enough to have trouble staying upright. So better just to stay out of that situation as much as possible. Dean scrutinized the rock, squinting at it a bit. That's a lot of power for just a little scribble rock. "This one goes out to all the ladies. So, heavyweight signs, omens – what do we got?"

"I assume it's writing. But I've never seen anything like it, ever. And it doesn't match anything in any book or online."

"All right, so big daddy chomper lands here, he grabs himself some Dick..." Dean paused there, for emphasis, and Sam pursed his lips in his "you are so childish" look. It was cute when Sam did that. Besides, Dean brought up Dick at any available moment because it was damn hilarious. Plus teasing Sam was always a bonus. "and then he starts secretly underwriting university departments, pouring money into digs – all for this. Why?"

"No clue. We do know that he will be tearing new ones until he gets it back, though." Sam shut his computer and stood up, and Dean glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. They were somehow much closer together than Dean had intended. He wasn't quite sure how that happened. Dean reached past Sam and set the rock back down, his eyes on Sam's face the whole time. As entirely spent as Dean still was, Sam was still right there. And kind of perfect. "Look, we got to take a minute, hole up somewhere safe, find out what we've got."

Dean didn't usually agree to hiding out, but Sam had a very valid point, and Dean would prefer they both made it out of this alive.

"Rufus' cabin, then?" Dean was only about six inches away from Sam now. Sam was straightening up some papers on the desk, looking down at whatever he was organizing while Dean looked at him. Okay, fine. Dean couldn't take it anymore, screw how tired he was and the slight humiliation that came with that. 

"Yeah," Sam turned his head towards Dean's briefly. Dean took the opportunity and sidled up closer to Sam, reaching his hand out and turning Sam's hip away from the table, forcing the younger man to face him. Sam looked a little surprised for a moment, then his face softened and he scooped an arm around Dean's lower back, pulling him closer. Dean looked up at Sam, just looked, for a good ten seconds before he realized how extremely girly that was.

"This time, I'm doing the shopping." Dean said the words low, like they were in a totally different context, even though they weren't. Sam grinned, leaning down to close the gap between them. Dean's eyes drifted shut before Sam's lips even touched his. Dean tilted his head up into the kiss, reveling how soft it was in contrast to their rough play last night. Sam's lips moved against his like Dean's lips might have well have been the softest thing in the world. The thought sent shivers down Dean's spine, which Sam must have felt, with his hand splayed across the dip in Dean's back. Sam pressed him closer, their hips and chests lining up and adding just a slight bit of pressure. Dean wrapped his arms up around Sam's shoulders, pulling at Sam's bottom lip gently between his own. Sam hummed softly into Dean's mouth, a quiet vibration of pleasure that transferred from Sam's lips to Dean's and sent another shiver through Dean's body. Dean was fairly sure he could stay here forever, just moving his lips against Sam's, quiet and sweet and soft and everything Dean had never known he needed. 

_Riiiiinnngggg_. The noise came out of nowhere, and Dean jumped a little, which Sam responded to by pulling Dean tighter to his body. _Riiinnnggggg_ Sam lifted his head, pulling back his mouth away from Dean's with a sad sigh. Dean made an annoyed sound as Sam let go of Dean with one arm, reaching to grab the phone with his free hand. Dean didn't want to go yet, though, so he buried his face in Sam's neck. Dean pressed a few soft kisses to the skin there, making Sam's body shudder like Dean's had earlier. Then Sam held the phone up to see the caller ID and Dean closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing in Sam. 

"It's Meg." Dean nearly smacked Sam's jaw he jumped up straight so fast. Meg? That meant Cas. Dean's jump had landed him an inch away from Sam, and while one of Sam's hands was still on Dean's lower back. It felt more like a grounding anchor than a hug now though. Which Dean didn't mind. Dean kept one of his hands gripping Sam's arm, the one that wasn't holding the phone. Then Sam flipped open the phone, holding it to his ear. 

"What?" Sam sounded majorly annoyed. Which was a little understandable, considering Meg had interrupted an extremely awesome moment for Dean. But this was Cas they were talking about. Dean hated waiting, god, he just wanted to be the one with the phone in his hand right now. Or better yet, he wanted to be in Indiana right now. God, Dean needed Cas back. It was his best friend after all. 

"What?" Sam tilted down the phone away from his mouth. Dean was pretty sure he'd be standing this close to the phone even if he and Sam hadn't been close together in the first place. He really would like to freaking know what was going on. "Cas is awake."

"When?" Dean was attempting not to freak out, but Sam finally noticed his plight apparently and put the phone on speaker just as Dean raised his voice a bit. "When?"

"Last night about eight." So while Dean had been fucking around, he could have been seeing if Cas was okay? What the hell, Meg? Not that Dean didn't enjoy last night, because oh he did. Obviously, he'd been so into Sam, he'd collapsed on him afterwards. But Meg should have fucking said!

"And you waited till now to call us?" Sam's hand on Dean's lower back pressed just a little bit, and Sam's thumb began rubbing back and forth, a little tentatively at first like he was afraid how Dean might react. But Dean was actually a little grateful for the tether to reality, the tether to Sam that was keeping him from throwing the phone out the window in rage. 

"I've been busy with Cas. He's just a tad different than when he dozed off, 'kay?"

"What do you mean, different?" Sam's whole hand was rubbing now. Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, calming himself down. He breathed out of his nose carefully, taking slow enough breaths for Sam to know he was okay. It was just, Cas had been practically dead, again, for like the third or fourth time, and now he was okay, and Meg waited like 12 hours to tell him.

"Hey, Seacrest, guess what – not a nurse. Just playing one on TV." Dean made an annoyed face. Sam's hand kept rubbing. "Want answers? Start driving."

Meg hung up and Dean breathed out a breath he'd been quite aware he'd been holding. Sam put the phone back in his pocket, looking at Dean carefully, like there was a possibility Dean might go nuke on him.

"Great. So, Indiana?"

"Yeah." Dean's voice was quieter than he'd intended, but he was still kind of overwhelmed. It was too early for this shit and Dean was too tired. Sam's hand had stopped rubbing, in fact, it left Dean's back all together, turning back to the table to grab the papers he'd been organizing. 

"Eight o’clock last night." Dean raised his eyebrows as he said it, looking up at Sam. 

"Yeah. Same time we opened up that thing." Sam pointed at the rock and Dean stared at it for a moment. What the hell kind of rock had the power to wake up Cas? Hopefully, they were about to find out.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Dean walked (he was not running. speed walking) towards the day room, he already had a skeptical frown on. He wasn't sure how he still had a heart at all left to break, but apparently he had enough of one to have it shattered one more time. The hope he'd had, the spark that had lit up inside him when Cas had turned to him, seen him, truly seen him. _Hello Dean._ It was a moment of light Dean was never going to forget. The way Cas had looked at him, it wasn't the same look Dean saw in his dreams, and he wasn't sure why, but that was okay. Cas was here and that was all that mattered. Cas was okay. Cas was going to be okay.

And then he wasn't. The lights blew out with a crack and Castiel laughed, eerily and not like himself at all. Then Meg explained and Dean's heart, that had been sinking ever since the moment Cas didn't look at him like Dean was the entire universe, shattered. And when Cas had pulled him into that hug, with Sam, Dean could feel his heart beating against Cas's chest. They hadn't been this close for nearly as long as Dean could remember, but Cas was here, with him, just. Well. Not Cas.

But now, they would be alone, for the first time in years. Dean reached the doorway and paused. Cas was there, sitting inside, his back towards Dean. Dean wasn't sure how he was going to do this, how he could walk up to the angel he'd loved and lost, only to have him lost again. So close and untouchable, inches and so far away. It was one of the worst kinds of torture, and that was a subject Dean knew a thing or two about. He breathed in a breath of courage, his eyes going to the sky out of habit. Funny, when the only reason he was looking up for guidance was for the person directly in front of him. Dean looked back at Cas, and stepped inside the threshold.

Cas didn't turn to him, but Dean had a feeling he knew he was there. Dean's eyes stayed trained on Cas, but as Dean passed in front of him, standing at the side of the table, Cas didn't look up. Just stared ahead. It took everything for Dean not to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sanity back into him. When Dean finally stopped, facing Cas, Cas's eyes moved up to meet his. Dean looked down at him, just looking for a moment. Taking in all of the changes, and how different Castiel looked when he wasn't radiating with power and confidence. And love. Dean couldn't remember ever looking at Cas's eyes and not seeing that hesitant wonder and interest in Dean. Now the stare was cooler, no longer meeting Dean's with a crack and sizzle. It hurt, physically, to see the change. To see a Cas who looked at Meg and called her a thorny beauty, but looked at Dean the same way he looked at Sam. 

Even before Dean had admitted to himself how much he needed Cas, what a big role Castiel played in Dean's life and happiness, Dean had always known how Castiel made him feel worthy, made him feel like maybe he actually did deserve to be saved. Cas had done so much for Dean, parts on the inside that Cas would never know. And he'd broken Dean too, broken him down to the core. But Dean couldn't say any of that. He couldn't scream about how Cas didn't love him anymore, how it was the first time since Dean had been topside that he hadn't felt the love of the angel washing over him when he stood across from that dirty trenchcoat. Dean couldn't say anything he needed to. Instead,

"You do realize you just broke God's word?" It was a try at getting Cas to respond to something simple, to fix him. God knows as much as Meg loved Cas too, a demon wasn't exactly the healthiest way to heal a broken mind. Cas just looked away from Dean though, pursing his lips like he not only didn't care, but was offended Dean brought it up. Dean's hopes crashed just a bit more. He'd had some bubble left inside him that maybe being alone with Cas could help on its own. Apparently not. Dean's faith in himself was fading quickly.

He furrowed his eyebrows and blinked, attempting at not crying. God, Cas. Dean pushed his lips together in an effort to control their trembling, then pulled out a chair for himself, sitting down across from Cas. Cas seemed wary, like Dean wasn't to be trusted. That hurt even more than being ignored. It took a little while after he sat down before Dean could look at Cas. Instead he stared at the table, his eyes shifting back and forth from nerves. He didn't know how to say I love you, he never really had. Even when Sam and he confessed it to each other for the first time, Sam had said it, and Dean had said _me too_. It just. That's how Dean was. But he didn't think "I love you" would fix any problems anyways, it never would. So Dean just kept those thoughts to himself, he had to know more about Cas's situation anyways.

"It's Sam's thing, isn't it?" Cas looked at him, still cool and almost reproachful. Dean held his ground, but not without a twist of pain in his chest. Cas just tilted his head, slightly, neither acknowledging Dean or asking a question, just a tilt that Dean couldn't interpret. Dean's eyes left Cas again, feeling like he was staring. Part of him wanted to keep his eyes on Cas for all of eternity and another part of him wanted to never look at him again, never be filled with the pain and realization that Cas was so far out of reach. Cas was always out of reach.

"You taking on his...cage match scars." Dean's hands felt awkward, balled there on the table. Looking at Cas again, wanting to reach across the table and take Cas's hands in his, to keep both of them from shaking. But Dean just stayed on his side of the table. "I'm guessing that's what broke your bank, right?"

Cas had an eerie smile on, like Dean had no idea what he was getting into, like Dean was some ignorant cute thing to be laughed at, amused by, not a threat and so insignificant to Cas. That's what this felt like. Insignificant. Like a goddamned demon meant more to Dean's angel than Dean did.

"Well it took. Everything. To get me here." 

"What are you talking about, man?" Cas was Dean's everything, besides Sam, but what the hell else made Cas this way? Whatever it was, Dean was gonna rip its lungs out. But seriously, what was Cas talking about? He couldn't just leave Dean with that, Dean needed to _know_. There was nothing Cas had done that they couldn't fix, that Dean and Cas couldn't work through together.

"Dean, I know you want different answers." Cas's nonchalance was seriously pissing Dean off. And different answers? Of fucking course he wanted different answers, Dean wanted his damn angel back!

"No, I want you to button up your coat and help us take down Leviathans." _Translation: I want you to go back to normal and come with me, be with me again, the angel on my shoulder and soldier at my side. You and I are so alike Cas, I need someone who can care for me the way you can, you make me want to just lay in your arms forever, won't you come with me? I need you to be okay if I ever want to stop having nightmares. Don't you know that?_

Cas just looked at him. A sad, "I'm sorry you don't understand" look. That wasn't- Dean was going to punch something. He breathed in to calm himself down a little, but it didn't help much. Dean looked down, his eyes threatening to water when he looked at Cas again. Dean squinted them, keeping the threat of tears at bay because that would help precisely nothing.

"Do you remember what you did?"

Cas just looked at him. Dean looked back. They were locked like this, neither able to move, just looking. Cas was the only person Dean would just stare at, even when unfallen tears were still drying from the corners of his eyes. Even Sam, Dean never really just looked, always touching or holding when they stared at each other. But with Cas, Dean could stand across the room and have an entire conversation just with their eyes. Maybe it was because Cas was his guardian angel, or maybe it was something else. But they both just looked at each other for what could have been minutes, or just fifteen seconds, Dean couldn't know.

Then Cas broke the eye contact first, reaching out to his side to pick up a box. Cas looked at the box for a moment while Dean kept looking at Cas, then he turned the box around to face Dean. Dean wasn't sure what a box in the day room had to do with anything, then he realized it was a game. A familiar one, with big red letters plastered across the front, followed by a much-too-enthusiastic exclamation point to be sincere. _Sorry!_

It dawned on Dean what Cas was saying, apologizing for everything he had done simply by holding out a cardboard box with cheesy lettering. Dean just stared at Cas, not sure how to speak, to convey what he was thinking. Then Cas tapped the box on the table and the board was suddenly out, set up with pieces and cards piled perfectly in place. Dean flinched, not sure why the board was even here. Couldn't Cas just apologize out loud, they could hug it out and move on? 

Then Cas set the box to the side and leaned back in his chair. Dean glared at the game. Then Cas caught his eye, leaning in an looking at him very seriously. Dean was praying inwardly that the next thing Cas said was something along the lines of "let's get the hell out of here and fix the mess I made together. Instead, the words that came out of Cas's mouth elicited Dean's glare to turn on the angel.

"Do you want to go first?" Dean did go first, just to not argue with Cas about it. Red went first anyways. Red for power, and blood. Dean would have picked blue if this had been a normal game, the colour of Cas's eyes, and the sky Dean looked to to find him. But he didn't care about colours right now, or the game. Although he did wonder for a brief second if Cas picked green for the same reason Dean would have picked blue. Dean knew his eyes were nice, enough chicks had awed over them for Dean to be aware. The green of the pawn in Castiel's fingertips could just be a coincidence though. The old Cas, Dean would've been sure it wasn't, but the one who looked to Meg, Dean didn't know.

They played, Dean going through the motions of the game, automatically grimacing at sucky cards, even though he wasn't interested in playing. He listened to Cas ramble, hoping that somewhere in his monkeys and poetry talk Cas would say something useful. Dean injected questions as often as he could, trying to snap Cas back to reality and get real answers. Cas avoided all of them though, one time pointing at Dean's red pawn and telling him he had to go back to start. Dean looked at Cas incredulously, barely able to comprehend that a board game was more important to the divine celestiel being than Dean or the end of the world. Which was brought on by him in the first place, by the way. Even if it had been majority Dean's fault, for not looking out for Cas more, for not telling him how much he did need him. Dean was still haunted by those words, the first words of the new Cas that had been God. _You don't love me. Fear and respect maybe, but not love._ Dean should have told Cas every day.

But now he was stuck with broken Cas, and Dean would play by the new rules as best he could. He picked up the pawn, absentmindedly placing it back in the start bubble. That one was too far away for the safe zone anyways. Then Dean tried again, to make Cas pay attention. 

"This is important." The smile on Dean's face was desperate not happy. Cas just pointed at the game. Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from flipping the table over in frustration. Instead, he picked up a card, not even reading it, but more registering it in some distant part of his mind that remembered playing the game with Sam as a kid. In hospital lobbies, while Dad was getting stitched up. Sam was the one who had pointed out the annoying exclamation point that made the whole game seem like a sarcastic lie. He'd only been ten at the time. Which meant Dean was fourteen. Funny how Dean remembered events by how old Sam had been, then calculated the math to find out what his own age was. Anyways, his hand picked up the pawn and moved it the eight spots closer to his safe zone. Then he'd fulfilled his duty to broken Cas and Cas had better return the damn favour.

"I think Metatron could stop a lot of bad. You understand that?" Dean could not spell this out any simpler. He was talking to Cas like he was a two year old, but somehow Cas just picked up the next card, holding it up for Dean to see, contradictory exclamation point and all.

"We live in a _sorry_ universe. It's engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from your misfortune?" Cas's fingers set down his pawn in Dean's spot, swiftly scooping up Dean's red pawn that had been so close to making it home, placing it back in the big red circle. Dean was about to kill this game, he hated metaphors anyways, but metaphors plus a game he hated, plus Cas avoiding his questions, plus Cas was kicking his ass, probably intentionally to prove a point. Dean was really fucking done. "But these are the rules. I didn't make them."

"You made some of them." Cas just looked at him calmly, which only threw more sparks onto the fire. Didn't Cas get it? "When you tried to become _God_. When you cut that hole into that wall."

"Dean." Cas was looking at him, something changed in his eyes. Dean's words clearly had some sort of affect on him. "It's your move."

Dean smacked the table with his fist before flattening it out, his palm catching the corner of the board and sliding it, and all of it's contents on to the floor. Well, all but two pawns that managed to escape the wrath, a green one and a blue one, sitting precipitously on the edge of the table.

"Forget the damn game!" Cas hung his head as Dean shouted. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked in the ribs. Dean instantly felt immensely bad, but he needed to get through to Cas, Cas wasn't hearing him. He made his voice gentler now, apologizing for upsetting Cas with his tone, but not at all apologizing for spilling the game's contents on the floor, that had felt damn good. Dean hated that game.

"Forget the game. Cas." Cas slowly lifted his head to meet Dean's eyes with his electric blue ones, which were only the colour of a dirty ocean right now.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Dean's eyes didn't leave Cas's. 

"No." Dean shook his head a bit, his eyes still locked on the darkened blue, the dulled blue that used to shine brighter than the skies of a Texas summer. "You're _playing_ sorry." 

Cas furrowed his eyebrows, the metaphor not lost on him. Cas heard that Dean didn't capitalize the Sorry, because he wasn't talking about the game. Cas stood from his chair, and for a moment, Dean had another rise of hope. Then Cas walked over to the game and knelt, picking up the pawns one by one, in rainbow order. Dean leaned back in his chair, watching Cas because there was nothing left to say. Nothing that would make a difference, anyways.

Dean's left hand played with the two pawns left on the table, absentmindedly scooting them next to each other, so the bases touched. Then he tipped the blue one on it's side, trying to balance the head of it against the head of the green one. The blue pawn rocked a bit and didn't cooperate at first. but finally it stabilize enough for Dean to take his hand away. The blue pawn stayed tipped against the green sturdy one, for just a moment balancing entirely on the thin rim of its base. Then it toppled over the rest of the way, knocking down the green pawn with it and rolling in a curvy path towards the edge of the table, making a shiny sound as it hit the linoleum. Dean stared at the green pawn left on the table, knocked over from the weight of trying to carry what it couldn't. Then he put his thumb and forefinger together, flicking it as far as possible and not wincing when the plastic hit his fingernail wrong or when the pawn smacked the opposite wall, bouncing off and landing on another table. What the hell. Dean turned his gaze back to Cas now, watching him carefully clean up the outcome of Dean's temper.

Then Cas suddenly paused, a look coming over his face. Dean may have not been around Cas for months, it didn't matter. Dean still knew all of his tells.

"What?"

"Sam. He's talking to angels." Dean ignored the surprised childish wonder in Cas's eyes and bolted out of his seat, grabbing Cas by the arm and hauling him upwards. Cas didn't protest, probably out of his curiousity to talk to angels again. On his way out of the room, Dean glared at the green pawn one last time. If it had only been stronger, none of them would've toppled in the first place. The pawn didn't deserve to bounce back and land with another chance on another table somewhere. Then Dean was taking off down the hallway, Cas in tow. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Why should we give you anything? After everything you have taken from us?" Dean looked taken aback, offended actually by the blonde angel's words. Sam was a bit confused too, they did kind of put Lucifer back in his cage, and save a ton of angels. Plus Cas was on their side, and Hestor seemed to have looked up to him at one point. Although Cas looked down guiltily at her words, like he was very aware of what she was talking about and very ashamed by it. Sam was about to try to figure out what when Hector took a step forward and Sam bristled, ready to jump in front of Dean with an angel blade if necessary.

"The very touch of you corrupts!" That was cold. And not true, but Sam knew Dean wouldn't see that. People-or, well, angels- saying things like that always stuck, always played on repeat in Dean's head until he drove himself mad and took to drinking more, cursing and blocking Sam out. Her words alone were enough of a reason for Sam to want to take her out. No one got to say shit like that to Dean. No one. The other angel turned and glared at Dean at her words, emphasizing her point, but Sam saw more in the look than that, too. It was like Dean was personally responsible for something that had had a major affect on both of their lives. How? 

Sam looked back and forth from each of the angels, then Cas and Dean, and finally it dawned on him. What Hestor had yelled at Castiel earlier. _You have fallen in every way imaginable._ It was Cas. Dean had made Cas fall in love with him, which in the angels' eyes, was corrupting him. Falling in love with a human when you were a celestial being had to be a pretty big deal, though. But even more than that, everything Cas had ever done, he'd done for Dean. First, rebelling against all of the angels and attempting to warn Dean, then being reset to factory mode and doing it all over again, saving Dean from the green room he'd been trapped in. Then Cas had been killed, again, and come back, again, to help Dean with his mission to get Lucifer back in the cage. And Cas had rebelled against the angels again, killing many in the process, and he'd died. Again. And then he'd come back and saved Dean, then tried to save the rest of the world for Dean, ending up in a deal with Crowley when he was too afraid of his love for Dean to confront Dean for help. Then he'd become God, and Sam heard him tell Dean that Dean didn't love him, could remember the pit of guilt in Sam's stomach because that part was Sam's fault. Then Cas had become God, kiling a ton more angels and racking his body count up to the thousands, only ever stopping that for Dean too. Then he'd died _again_ trying to save Dean, and brought the Leviathan into the world, who in turn also probably killed angels. So yeah, the angels being pissed at Cas was understandable, he killed a shit ton of them. And for them to be pissed at Dean, that was even more than understandable, because he had been Cas's motive. And there was no crime without motive.

But despite all that, the blonde angel pissed him off. She still didn't have a right to talk to Dean like that, it wasn't Dean's fault Cas loved him. It wasn't like Cas had suddenly changed the moment he met Dean.

"When Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!" The angel's entire body radiated with the shout, the accusation.

Okay, maybe Cas had.

God, Cas had it so much worse than Sam thought. Cas had been in love with Dean ever since the very second they met, and Dean had already been taken. The kind of pain that had to cause, for Cas? No wonder he did everything he did. Sam would have done the same if he was in Cas's position, if he'd loved Dean since the moment they met and Dean already loved someone else. Dean got it now though, Sam could see the anger in the rise and fall of his shoulders. Dean was pissed, which meant that he knew why the angels hated him too. Then Hestor took another step forward, her voice going dark.

"And for that, you're going to pay." Sam moved forward, realizing he didn't have an angel blade and realizing he also didn't care, he'd protect Dean with his body if he had to. Then an angel was in front of him, two fingers held up in a warning. Sam froze. He'd be no help to anyone if he got liquified for pissing an angel off. But Dean was still in danger. 

Cas's voice surprised Sam a bit and he turned to see the angel facing Hestor, putting his own life on the line for Dean. Again. Sam shouldn't have been surprised. And then, to complicate the love triangle even more, Meg showed up to save _Cas's_ ass. So, that's how it was going to be. 

Meg loved Cas, and a little part of Cas loved Meg back, but not enough. Because Cas loved Dean, and a little part of Dean loved Cas back, but not enough. Because Dean loved Sam, and Sam loved Dean back, but maybe they would never be happy because Dean would never sleep peacefully unless he knew Cas was okay and on their side. Sam knew Dean wanted more for Cas than to be his second choice, and Meg might be good for Cas, but Cas was generally just so confused all around that maybe none of it mattered. Sam knew he had the luckiest end of the deal, knew he felt the least pain of any of them.

And for that, he'd be eternally grateful.


	89. Oeillade (There Will Be Blood  07x22)

"So what, we just keep going while he's out there like this?"

"Do we have any other option? I mean, it's what he'd want us to do, right?" Dean tilted his head, the leather collar of his jacket brushing his neck. The popped collar hid the fading bruise from the other night, which somehow seemed like years ago instead of a couple days. Sam missed Dean, but he also knew Dean was dealing with a lot right now. Specifically, Cas. It was eating up Dean, having Cas that way. If there was anything Sam could do to help, he would, but there was nothing.

"Yeah." Dean stood up, picking up a bag and walking past Sam, not looking at him. "Yeah, him and Frank. And Cas, if his marbles were in the bag."

Sam followed Dean with his eyes, unable to say anything. Sam hated feeling like he couldn't help Dean. Dean paused, his bag sitting on the bed, facing away from Sam. Sam looked down at his feet, helpless and wishing it could be any other way.

"Good thing we got Crowley in our corner, right? Seeing how it all comes down to him?" Sam looked up the same time Dean turned around, and their eyes locked. Dean wasn't pissed at Sam, just life. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Dean shook his head for a moment before he turned back to his bag, sifting through it to make sure he had everything. Sam walked up to him slowly, the hand he reached out to touch Dean tentative. Sam's fingers curled around Dean's shoulder, staying there for a moment, grounding Dean as best as he could. Dean took a deep breath, his shoulder rising and falling beneath Sam's hand. Then the pause was gone and Dean went back to rummaging in his bag. Sam slid his hand down Dean's shoulder to his back, stepping up behind Dean as his hand slowly ran down Dean's spine, eventually turning at a ninety degree angle and wrapping around Dean's ribs to his stomach. 

Sam pressed up against Dean's back slowly, leaving one hand still at his side so as to not make Dean feel like it was too much. Then Sam placed a simple kiss to the back of Dean's neck, watching as Dean's hands stilled for a moment before getting back to work.

"What do you say I drive?" Sam murmured it softly against Dean's neck, just trying to be helpful. Dean swiveled in Sam's arm, the loose circle of Sam's hold now resting on Dean's back, their chests touching. Dean gave Sam a weak smile, and Sam missed the oeillade that usually came with it. Dean reached up a hand and gently tucked a piece of Sam's hair back behind his ear. 

"Yeah, okay." Sam placed a soft chaste kiss to Dean's forehead, eliciting another weak smile.

 

The trip to Rufus's cabin wasn't bad, Dean slept most of the time and Sam sped a little. Or a lot. But it was late and no one was really on the roads to Montana, so it wasn't dangerous. Sam watched the road unfold before them, watched Dean fitfully shifting in the passenger seat. Zeppelin IV was playing quietly in the background.

_And as we wind on down the road  
Our shadows taller than our soul._

Sam would never lose that moment. He captured it all, Dean's expression and the way his body automatically curled towards Sam. The way Baby just glided, the three of them right where they belonged, the closest thing to home Sam had ever felt. 

This was more of a heaven than any memory Sam had seen in his time in the clouds. Sam had wondered, realized a few things about their trip upstairs. About how Dean's first taste of heaven was that Forth of July, which thinking back on made Sam tear up. Then once Dean had found him, in their shared heaven, _soulmates_ , the rest of the memories had all been Sam's. It had taken Sam a while, but he figured out why. Dean's heaven was wherever Sam's was. Dean's heaven was simply Sam. 

Sam had still been so confused at the time, so caught up in his past and his destiny and the encroaching future, his heaven had just been a compilation of flat-joy memories, nothing deep or real or truly the best parts of Sam's life. Just highlights that stood out as memorable, different. Normal. Which is something Sam had still been battling for so desperately. Now, if Sam were to go to heaven again, what was it that he'd see? Maybe Dean in the driver's seat, empty road in front of them. Sam didn't know. Couldn't know.

 

They were at the cabin before long, and Dean had woken up for the last time about half an hour before Sam pulled the car onto the lot. Silence consumed them both the moment Baby's engine shut off and the soft sounds stopped echoing around them. 

They only sat for a moment before routine took them and they headed to the back of the car, opening up the trunk and getting their things. Taking everything inside and setting their weapons bag on the table, Dean taking both of their personal duffels into the one bedroom. Sam put a few extra nicknacks on the counter, things they'd need for summoning Crowley tomorrow morning. Tonight, though, it was just Sam and Dean.

Dean was getting undressed when Sam walked into the bedroom. Dean looked defeated, despite the fact that they were so close to achieving this, saving the world again. Only one step away, one more Leviathan to kill then this was all over, Sam and Dean could take a week long vacation, driving anywhere and everywhere, or staying in the cabin for a week straight, only leaving bed for lunch and dinner. Anything, just so long as it was with Dean, then Sam would be happy. Honestly, the thought of all of that carefree time with his love was the only thing keeping Sam pushing through this. Dean needed that break, he was getting sloppy and tempered, he needed a break more now than any time Sam had seen him.

Sam crossed the room, his strides long but unrushed. Dean had his tshirt by the hem, pulling it up over his head by crossing his arms over his head. Sam wrapped his fingers around the hem, lifting it out of Dean's grip and helping Dean out the rest of the way. The tshirt pulled softly over Dean's head, musing his spikes just a little. Sam brought the tshirt to his chest and folded it precisely, bending down and placing it gently on Dean's duffel. Dean waited until Sam stood back up before unbuttoning his jeans, their fingers working in tandem. It wasn't sexual, just caring. Then Dean tugged those down too, and Sam helped them over Dean's feet. Then Sam lifted each one of Dean's feet and slid off his socks. Sam stood back up, his hand reaching up to cup Dean's cheek. Dean closed his eyes and Sam ran his thumb along Dean's jaw line, both of them unrushed. 

Then Dean finally reached up and wrapped his fingers over Sam's hand, pulling it away from his face gently, placing it back by Sam's side. Then Dean turned around slowly and walked over to the bed, just in his navy blue boxers. Sam shed his jacket and overshirt while he watched him pull back the comforter and sheets. Then Sam had to tug his tshirt over his head too, and lost sight of Dean for a moment. When Sam was finally free of his tshirt, Dean was laying on the bed, scooting underneath the sheets. Sam was a little quicker in unbuttoning and taking off his jeans and boots, setting them next to Dean's, although he did take the time to fold them neatly. 

Sam padded over to the other side of the bed, depressing the mattress down as he climbed on with Dean. It was only a twin bed, but they didn't need more. As soon as Sam was under the covers, Dean slided over to him and they met in the middle, their lips touching just before the rest of their bodies lined up with each other. Dean's lips were soft and pliant under Sam's, like raspberries or roses. If they were in a different night, Sam might have mentioned that thought to Dean and got called a girl for the rest of time, but tonight Sam just moved his lips across them instead. The beautiful rush of Dean beneath his mouth, giving him anything Sam could ever dream of taking. 

Sam's hand ran up Dean's arm, from his wrist to his bicep, pausing there for a moment before sliding back down to Dean's hand, stroking his fingers across the side of Dean's thumb. Dean slid his hand up to Sam's, bringing both of their hands up by their chests. Dean slid his fingers in between Sam's the same time Sam did, their fingers curling other each other's hands and entwined, holding each other in the simple symbol of union. 

Sam stopped the movement of his lips against Dean's, instead parting them to draw in a breath. Sam was somehow so calm and at peace, even though his heart pounded for Dean. Dean's mouth was slotted over one half of Sam's, his lips parted to breathe in what breath left Sam's lips. They stayed that way, breathing each other's air and life, hands clasped and holding each other, legs entangled every other and ankles crossed over each other's, warmth transferring from the cotton of each of their boxers to the other's. It was perfect, and Sam was either dreaming or the luckiest person to have ever lived.

The angels may have wings and call themselves celestial, but there was nothing more divine than Dean. Dean, his bare skin against Sam's, their eyes closed and hands entwined. This was it, this moment. The one Sam would see in heaven. There wasn't anything this moment was missing, there was nothing better than this. Sam would never need anything besides his brother, his life. His love.

Sam didn't say I love you often. Not enough, anyways. Dean had never said "I love you," he spoke with more words than that; _you're my weakspot, i'm here sammy i won't leave you, i couldn't live without you i couldn't do it, whatever it takes sam, whatever this is between us love family_. Or the first time Sam had told Dean, and Dean had turned to him, tears at the corners of his eyes. _Me too._ And sometimes Dean said it with less words than those three "I love you", he said it with his green eyes or his gentle hands or his rough hugs or his sweet caresses. And it was enough, it would always be enough. Sam didn't need three syllables from Dean's mouth when he had so much more than that, he was so sure of Dean's love. Of their love. Their bond, their forever.

Dean made sweet love to Sam that night, just like the first time. Before Sam had jumped in the pit, before their lives had changed so thoroughly and completely. It was just the same, Dean pulled back from Sam for a moment, looking in his eyes, deep in his eyes.

"C'mere," Dean finally said, cocking his head to motion Sam over. They closed the space between them, reaching to connect their lips again. And just like that, the rest of the world melted away, and his hands flew to Dean again like they had so long ago. They both kept the kiss slow and deep, neither one pushing or rushing this at all. 

Dean rolled over on top of Sam, pushing him back gently on the bed. Everything was dark, except for the glow of the moonlight that was cutting through the windows. Then Dean leaned his head back down, slowly kissing Sam like they had years to do this. Dean had his hands on either side of Sam's body, holding himself up a few inches above him. Dean rested his forehead on Sam's, and Sam could feel Dean's eyes close, their chests brushing each other as they breathed in time. They stayed like that for a minute or two, both of them thinking back to the first time it had been like this, foreheads and noses touching, bodies close enough to feel each other's warmth.

"Hey Sam?" Dean finally spoke, his eyes still closed and his voice soft and gentle.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"You remember?" Sam nodded slightly, Dean's head moving with his. Dean breathed out slowly, trying to control his shaking. He took a few more breaths before he had himself under control, then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam's, just lips, gently, for just a moment. Then he sat back, behind Sam's propped up knees. Dean carefully prepped them both, going slow enough to not cause any discomfort, but not lingering on the task either. Sam closed his eyes, just letting himself focus on the feeling of Dean's fingers inside him. Sam missed Dean being this gentle, he'd never seen this side to him quite enough. 

It wasn't long before Dean rose back up over Sam, kissing him again, with an open mouth this time. When he pulled away, Sam stared at the beautiful green eyes, lost in what felt like forever.

"Sammy," he breathed.

"You are my everything," Dean whispered, placing his hands on Sam's hips. Sam breathed out Dean's name, his hands gripping Dean's shoulders as Dean slid inside him. Sam fought the urge to throw his head back, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's instead. Dean's breathing was ragged, and his body was trembling slightly. Sam could think, feel, have nothing besides Dean. That was all there was, in the whole world, just Dean. No words, no thoughts, nothing besides his brother, rocking gently inside him.

Sam felt more complete, more right and at home than he had in his entire life. This was the other half of his soul, the better part of him, and Sam got to have all of him. He was filled with everything Dean, and had never felt more like he belonged.

Dean was his weak spot, and his strength. His brother and lover, his entire world and purpose for living.

And when Sam looked into Dean's eyes, he saw a perfect reflection of everything he was feeling. This was them, and this was forever. This was love.

 

All of Sam's thoughts were an echo of everything that had been the first time. How after all of this, after everything they'd been through together and apart, after every single fight and death and perfect moment, they still had this. They would forever have this. Not the sweet movement together, but the love. The love between them that had been there since the beginning and would remain long past either of them died for good. And what a beautiful thing it was.

 

Sam fell asleep tucked in the crook of Dean's arm, his head turned in to Dean's shoulder. He fell asleep long before Dean did.

 

Dean stayed awake for a long time, holding Sam, thinking.

Something was going to happen tomorrow, Dean could feel it. He didn't think Sam knew, but Dean did. He didn't want to lose a moment with Sam, didn't want to miss a single second of the beautiful body next to his. His eyes stared forward, thinking how tonight was more beautiful than anything else Dean had seen.

 

But it somehow felt like goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took the direct scene from Sam and Dean's first time, in chapter 41. Supernatural has a lot of parallels, so I kept that recurring theme.
> 
> In case you would like to cry, feel free to read this chapter with C'est la Mort by Civil Wars. (The song's in english though, not French besides two lines: c'est la vie and c'est la mort: It's the life and It's the death.)
> 
> Because that's what I did while I wrote it. It's a little painful, especially if you know what's about to happen in the next episode. So. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!  
> xx


	90. Jejune (Survival of the Fittest  07x23)

"You deal with him, I can't anymore." Meg stormed in, no hello, just instant complaining. Dean raised his eyebrows and made a face at the flushed demon.

"You might wanna be more specific." Meg raised her eyebrows at Dean but continued. 

"I was laying low halfway across the world when emo boy pops up out of nowhere and zaps me right back here." 

"Why?" 

"Go ask him, he was your boyfriend first." Dean's furrowed expression loosened in surprise. He swallowed once, pretending he was glaring at Meg when he was actually just blushing at her words. Sam was watching Dean, but Dean didn't return the gaze. He stood for a moment, unsure of what to do. If he went out to check on Cas, it would be confirming Meg's statement and practically calling Cas his boyfriend. Even though Dean already had a boyfriend. But he couldn't not go, this was Cas. Dean hadn't seen him in god knows how long. It'd been, like a week, and it felt like forever. 

Dean ducked his head down and pursed his lips, then he was brushing past Meg, not apologizing for lightly knocking her shoulder as he went to the door. Dean didn't look at either of them, he'd wasted enough time already that he could've been seeing Cas. "

Well he just can't make up his mind, can h-" Dean caught off the sound of Meg's voice talking to Sam with the slam of the door behind him. Sam probably wouldn't listen to her, but even if he did, there weren't a lot of worries. Besides, it was partially true anyways. 

Dean sped walked out to the car slow enough to make it look unrushed while still trying not to waste time. As he neared the car, though, Dean slowed down a bit, suddenly getting nervous. What was this, Dean didn't get nervous? But Cas could be anything right now, think anything of Dean. The last time Dean had been with Cas, they'd both been accused for being the reasons of the end of the world. And for the first time in a while, Dean realized he really was. He was too busy too dwell on it, but Dean had a feeling as soon as this thing with Dick was over he needed a major break. 

Dean heard the soft music playing out of the stereo before he saw Cas's face. It was a song by the same guy who sang American Pie. About some sort of painter. Just the type of song Cas would listen too. If they both made it out of this alive and finally got Cas his brains back, Dean was so going to initiate Cas into some good music. Dean had a feeling Cas would be more of a Rush or Boston fan than Metallica. Dean would have to sort through his music and get a collection for Cas. And they never had finished that movie night, too, so long ago. That had been years. But Cas was always gone, or Dean had been to young to know how badly he needed Cas. Now though, as Dean bent down in front of the open window, he was quite aware. As though his heart about to jump out of his chest wasn't clue enough.

"Hey there." Dean put his hands on the door frame, bending over (Sam and Meg were sure to have a view) and looking through the window at Cas. The words echoed back to Dean, sounding exactly like _hey you_ , the affectionate greeting from Mr. to Mrs. Smith. Cas turned to Dean, those blue eyes still not the same colour of brilliant blue that Dean had fallen in love with. There were still beautiful, even though them were empty. All of Cas was that way nowadays. 

Cas lifted a hand in greeting, which was really fucking adorable. The way Cas tried so hard to be human, to fit in, made Dean kinda soft inside. Dean was restless, and his hands tapped down on the car frame again, his eyes going from Cas's hand, which was now sinking to his lap, back up to Cas's eyes. Cas turned back towards the front, his head tilted to the side. Dean watched him, his eyes trained on the man who used to never look away. Now it seemed like Cas never wanted to look at Dean. It wasn't as much a shot at Dean's ego as it was at his heart. Dean turned his hand to the side, pressing his lips together tightly to hold in his emotions, keep from saying something stupid (like I love you. Dean had needed to say it to Cas so badly, and was going to until Cas went Psycho Circus and no longer cared about Dean. Dean might as well say it to a wall.) or crying or doing something equally as bad and embarrassing. God, Cas was going to be the death of him. Dean suddenly couldn't take it, couldn't watch as his heart was ripped out for the nine thousandth time by Cas, as Cas grazed his gaze of Dean, just another man, unimportant and unworthy even of a hello. Cas hadn't even _said_ anything to him. 

Dean stood up, needing air, and thinking like a mad man. All those times, every single _Hello, Dean._ What had they meant? Dean always felt like it was more than a greeting, Cas didn't say it the same way he greeted Sam, with the tip of his head and a few words. But every time for Dean, it had been the same. And Dean may never hear it again. He clenched his fists against the frame of the car, tilting his head up for a second to breathe in air that felt stale in his lungs. What he'd give to have the cold crisp air off of Castiel's mouth, the memory that haunted Dean so badly. 

Dean inhaled and brought himself back to the present, to the petulant child he was working with. Cas was either pouty or jejune, and nowhere in between. Dean shook his head to himself, sighing at how Cas was now. Then it was another gulp of attempted air and he bent back down again. Dean rested on his forearms now, making himself more comfortable against the window of the car. Dean started right in on his speech, before the wave of disappointment from the man who never looked at him crashed Dean down into hopeless oblivion. 

"So." Dean looked away. Staring at Cas when Cas wouldn't look at him, or stare out the windshield like Cas wasn't there. Dean couldn't decide which was worse. "Cas. What's uh. What's the word?" 

"Well Dean, I've been thinking." Dean tried to block the emotion he felt flooding in his eyes, but it was impossible. If anyone were to see Dean's face right now, they'd write poems about the way he looked at Cas. Dean didn't need a mirror to know how his expression was, how full of love. Cas though, stared straight ahead. Dean was just another man, an irrelevant man who used to be a friend. 

"Monkeys are so clever, and they're sensible in that they leave the skins _on_ the bananas that they eat. Is it...really necessary to test cosmetics on them? I mean, how important is lipstick to you, Dean?" 

Dean blinked, still trying to take in what Cas just said. Oh, he'd asked Dean a question. Was lipstick...well. Dean was sure he could think of a few kinks that might call for lipstick eventually, but other than that Dean didn't give a damn. He was in a committed relationship with a man, after all. Even when Dean had been sleeping around with a ton of women, he'd never really cared that much about their lip colour. That just...wasn't a thing. 

"Not very." Dean clapped his hands in a defeated sort of gesture Cas wouldn't understand. After a sufficient enough pause, Dean brought up reality again. "You wanna come inside and tell us what's going on?" 

Cas sat still for a moment, but Dean waited. He could wait, that was one thing he never failed at when it came to Cas. He'd spent hours of his life waiting on the angel, no reason to stop now. Especially when Dean got to have Cas with him while he waited. Well, kind of. Cas wasn't really here. His gorgeous _vessel_ was, and parts of his mind were. But it still wasn't entirely _Cas._

Dean spent almost all of his time thinking of Cas as Jimmy Novak, because he basically was. Dean was only human, so he saw bodies instead of souls. Sometimes Dean wondered though, what Castiel really looked like. His true form, the one the size of the empire state building. He was sure Cas would be beautiful then, too. After all, Jimmy had still been decent looking when he'd been Jimmy, but Castiel was somehow so much more exquisite, made his vessel into a gorgeous, lit up thing. 

Maybe one day Dean would see him, see Cas's true form. Honestly, it was kind of possible. Dean hadn't let himself think about it, but standing here looking at Cas and just waiting, Dean didn't really have a reason to push it aside right now. Besides, it hadn't been a problem. Yet. Well first, when Dean had first met Cas before Cas was Cas, he'd just been a celestial thing that flew past Dean's motel rooms and convinence stores, shattering all glass in sight and making Dean want to stab his ears out. Castiel had told him once that he thought Dean would maybe be able to hear his true form, but all Dean had heard were extremely highpitched keening that probably gave him temporary ear damage. Dean had been a little disappointed when Cas had said that. If Dean could hear or see an angels true form without having his ears collapse or having his eyes burnt out of his skull, that'd be pretty awesome. 

So for a year and half or so, Dean let it go. Assumed he was like everyone else. Dean had shut his eyes as angels exploded rays of light everywhere, watched friends and demons alike drop to the ground with smoke smoldering out of empty eye sockets just from a glimpse. It was a natural instinct, to shut his eyes from the angelic light. And then Zachariah happened. Sam had been lying on the ground bleeding and Dean was about to lose his life forever, say yes to Michael. And the moment had come, and it'd been an important one for Dean, where he finally admitted to himself that he loved Sam more than everything in the world, that Sam was his reason for living. And so Dean had wielded his angel blade, and stabbed Zachariah through his jaw, up into his mouth. 

Sam's first reaction had been to shut his eyes tight, as even a glimpse of the grace of an angel - even metaphorically, like Pamela - would burn your eyes out of your skull. But as Zachariah began to light up with his grace, Dean's eyes stayed locked on the ones slowly filling with light. And then the grace had erupted, flooding the room with the hottest fire and most dangerous sideaffect brilliance that they had yet to see on this earth. 

Dean had not looked away. 

His eyes had not closed, he kept locked on Zachariah's burning face the entire time. The grace had flooded him, flew through him, lit him up like a firework. And Dean's green eyes didn't erupt into flames in their sockets, he didn't explode into a hundred little red pieces to paint the walls. Dean just watched the angel in front of him crumple to the ground, watched as the grace slipped away into nothing. 

Not only did the omnipotent grace not kill Dean or blind him, it pumped a liquid fire through his veins, filled him with a new spark of divinity he'd never felt before. It was with this power that Dean pulled Sam out of the green room, dragged him to safety. Sam, who was more than Dean's weight, and taller, and injured. Dean attributed it all to adrenaline at the time, and that's what he told Sam. But the rush that had filled him was so much more than that, and for just a moment Dean had a glimpse of a higher heaven, a sweet divinity that felt as right flooding through Dean's blood as the harsh red wetnesses that called at the demonic torturing devices that had been his hands. The stark opposite calls of angelic purity and sweet corruption in his mind had nearly ripped Dean in two as he tried to grasp that concept.

Later, after Zach had been dead and long gone, Dean thought back to that moment. It was important, he could tell, that he had the power to see an angel's true form. But somehow, Dean also knew that he had to keep it secret, had to keep it locked away even from Sam. So he acted just as every other human did, shielding his eyes from angel light. Dean had been pretending for years, not wanting anyone to know that he was one of the few- or well, probably the only -who didn't melt under the treetopper's lightbeam. 

But what had changed? What had happened between that first time hearing Castiel and nearly having his ears combust, versus the year and a half later when Dean soaked in an angel's grace? The only thing Dean could think of as a reason was Castiel. It was a little bit of ridiculous theory, much too overly romantic to be actually legit. Probably. But it was still the only thing that made sense. What if Dean had become angel proof because...he had fallen in love with an angel? Dean hadn't admitted it at the time, had written off the sparks in his chest as nerves or just a thing that all angels did to him. Dean had spent so long in denial, even after Cas died the first time and came back. Dean hadn't had enough time to properly grieve or recognize the unique pain in his chest that signaled to heartbreak before Cas had turned up alive again, so Dean had ignored it. But he had a feeling his love for Cas had somehow given him a sort of power that made him angel proof.

If that was true, God was a damn romantic. Like, really? Become immune to a species once you fall in love with one? It made sense though, if someone was intended to be with an angel, and couldn't see them without dying, it would be pointless. So humans who loved angels got immune. Maybe.

 

Dean was snapped back out of his reminiscing moment by the creak of a door. Cas was getting out of the car, and Dean fought the urge to go run over and close the door for him, press him up against the metal and do an instant replay of their first kiss. Cas would probably just let Dean kiss him then just walk away uncaring, or he'd disappear and ignore Dean. Either way, not the best idea. Dean had to be careful what he said to Cas, let alone what he did.

So Dean kept a ridiculous distance away from Cas as he followed him to the door of the cabin. Well, it felt ridiculous for them anyways. Dean didn't ever really walk places with Castiel, the only times Dean had, he'd either been with Sam too, or he'd had his arm around Cas. So following him, especially like three feet away, was strange. Part of Dean just wanted to force Cas back into reality, and he had a couple of brilliant ideas for that, all of which included some form of cheating on his boyfriend. So, for love for Sam, and love for Cas aka not wanting him to bolt and hate Dean even more, Dean kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Cas I need a wingman." Cas was going to ignore that particular pun. At least he got the reference. It wasn't common he got references. Did monkeys get references? Cas looked up and Saw Dean, with the Look on his face. 

"Dean-" Cas started to speak, started to say his new line. I don't fight anymore. Cas looked back down, setting another white plastic circle on his palette.

"If you don't wanna jump into the jaws of death, that's...fine." Fine. Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. Dean had told him that once. Did Dean remember? Cas remembered everything Dean told him. He didn't think about it though. The flowers were much nice to think about. But Cas looked up, looked at Dean. Sometimes looking at Dean hurt Cas inside and sometimes he did it anyway.

"How bout we run a little errand?" The Look on Dean's face was awfully inviting. And board games were more fun with people. And Cas used to like going places with Dean. It hurt him inside sometimes now to think about things Cas used to like. Besides, Dean was probably going to be dead soon, so Cas should go with him while he could. He didn't like the idea of fighting. Of Dean fighting the Leviathan. Dean would get hurt. Cas didn't like Dean to be hurt. Even now, when he tried to just think about the flowers, he saw Dean being hurt in all of their petals. They knew, too.

But Cas went with Dean, it would be nice. And if it hurt a little inside when Dean touched him so Cas could "Zap" them away, that was okay. Cas could be a little hurt inside. If it got too much he could leave.

Meg didn't hurt him inside. She was nice. She looked at him like how Dean did so it made Cas believe her. She liked him and Cas liked her. She was nice, and he didn't have any painful memories of her. All of Cas's painful memories had Dean. Cas didn't want to fight. Dean didn't ever stop fighting. Maybe if they lived through this Cas could show Dean the flowers. They were nice, Dean might like them.

Cas told himself that he liked Meg more than Dean now. It was easier, because after he took on Sam's demons, everything became black and white. And loving Dean was painful. Because Dean didn't love him back. Maybe a little, but Dean loved Sam more than anything ever, including Cas. So if Cas pretended that he didn't love Dean anymore maybe he wouldn't feel that horrible pain inside of never being Dean's first choice. Besides, Meg _did_ put Cas as her first choice. And when there was so much confusion swirling around everywhere, he might as well take love where he would get it. Meg was an easier target, and Cas genuinely did like her. Not as much as Dean, but he could settle for now. 

When Cas landed them where Dean asked, he placed Dean down a few feet away from him. That hurt less. Dean looked at him confused, like he wasn't sure his hand wasn't on Cas's arm anymore. Cas could still feel the burn of where Dean's hand had gripped him. He wondered if that's what Dean had felt when Cas's handprint had been seared into his arm. That was long ago. Almost five years. So much had changed in five years. 

"Thanks for the lift." Dean looked over at his car, then back at Cas. Cas didn't think Dean would look at him when his car was there. Cas could never figure out why Dean thought his car was his child. It was not human, and Dean was not a woman and therefore could not give birth. Even if Dean could, humans couldn't give birth to cars. Cars wouldn't fit inside their embryonal sacks.

"My pleasure." Dean was disappointed. Cas could tell. The hurt inside grew a little stronger. Dean turned to his car. The disappointment was searing into Cas. This hurt was much worse than most of the memory hurting. Disappointment. Maybe that was the worst thing humans could feel. Or maybe it was just Dean.

"Dean." Dean stopped instantly, turning to Cas with another Look.

" _Yes_." Disappointment. Annoyance. "We've been over it. I get it, you can't help."

Dean said can't. That was wrong. Did Dean think Cas didn't have the ability to help? That was what can't meant. Dean thought Cas simply couldn't. It wasn't that though. It just. It hurt and Cas didn't want to help. Or look at the Green eyes that held the disappointment. They used to hold something else.

"If we attack Dick and fail, you and Sam die heroically, correct?" Dean looked at him then tilted his head in curiosity. Cas wasn't sure which one of them had moved closer because now they were only two feet apart.

"I don't know, I guess?" For Dean that meant yes. Dean didn't think he was a hero. Cas didn't know how. Funny how just being next to Dean was getting things a little clearer. The flowers weren't on Cas's mind, and neither were the bees or the monkeys.

"And at best, I die trying to fix my own stupid mistake. Or...I don't die, get brought back again, I see now, it's a punishment resurrection, worse every time." The first time he was resurrected, he told Dean he didn't serve man, _and I certainly don't serve you_ , and he made Dean hate him and he helped jumpstart the apocalypse. The second time he had begun to kill angels, lots of them, to save Sam and Dean and stop Lucifer. The third time he was weaker, and made a deal with the King of Hell to save Dean and what Dean stood for, free will. The fourth time, he had had amnesia and had forgotten all about everything, then he had become this. Cas could only imagine what the next resurrection might bring.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas. Dean clearly hadn't noticed the pattern of Cas's resurrections then. Cas looked down. He was looking at Dean fine earlier but it was getting to be a little much.

"Sorry, we're talking about that god crap, right?"

"I'm not good luck, Dean." It was the truth. Telling the truth was dangerous but Dean was different. Cas looked up at him. Cas didn't look up at many people, his vessel was six foot tall. But Dean Cas looked up at. Dean had another look on, one that read over his face like something Castiel would never have guessed. 

Then Dean looked a way for a moment, like he was scared. He ran his hand over his mouth, and odd quirk Dean had to give himself courage. And also when he was quite upset. Cas wasn't sure which it was now. Then Dean looked back at him, his green eyes shining. He looked like how he had a long time ago, not as long ago as the handprint, but less long ago then when Dean was with Lisa. Dean had stood in front of him, one hand on Cas's shoulder, Cas's lips in an easy smile for the first time Cas could remember. Dean had held him in place, looked him in the eyes with an expression Cas had dared not name. _Don't ever change_. That was how Dean looked now. Except he was scared too, like he didn't know what would happen if he told Cas not to change again. Although Cas was fairly sure that wasn't what Dean would say now, not when Cas had failed him so badly the first time Dean had said that. Everything about Cas had changed. The only thing Cas never had go away was the compression on his chest, the weight in the shape of Dean. It used to be something Castiel embraced, but now it hurt. 

Dean must have gained whatever courage he needed because he suddenly looked at Cas again, the words tumbling out as Dean stumbled over himself for a moment. 

"Yeah, but you know what? Bottom of the ninth, and you're the only guy left on the bench..." Dean took a breath and his eyes locked on Castiel's. They glittered with a light, so bright Dean might as well have been the one with the wings. 

"Sorry, but I'd rather have you. Cursed or not." He'd rather...Dean would rather have him. Dean still wanted Cas, after all this time. After everything Cas had done, all the people and angels Cas had slaughtered and Dean still wanted him. Cursed or not. Castiel blinked. There was nothing else he could do. 

"And anyway, nut up, all right? We're all cursed." Dean gave a little shrug, the shoulders of his jacket raising up and crinkling out the smell of leather. "I seem like good luck to you?"

 _Yes. You've saved me every time you could, caught me every time I ever fell. **You have fallen in every way imaginable**_ Cas had. Cas did. Cas still was. Gracious Lord of the Heavens above, Castiel had fallen for Dean. Cas loved Dean. Cas still loved Dean. All that time, over the past month, when Cas had told himself it hurt inside to be around Dean, to look at him, to hear his voice? All of that pain had been from loving Dean so much that Castiel felt like nothing without him. He was nothing without Dean. Castiel loved him. 

Castiel loved Dean.

And he could stay here forever, standing across from the man who'd had the courage to admit it first, the man how loved him, who said it in his own beautiful, flawed way that was so human, so Dean. "I'd rather have you, cursed or not." Castiel just wanted yo stay here and stare at Dean forever. Dean's face was getting increasingly confused and worried as Castiel stared on. How could Cas ever have tried to forget that face. Finally, Dean opened his soft, pretty lips. 

"What?" Castiel smiled. He would be concerned to, if the roles were switched. 

"Well, I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Cas paused, considering what would be the major drawbacks of telling Dean he loved him straight out. There was still Sam, Dean was still in love with Sam. So really this revelation shouldn't have felt so good, but it did. Cas decided he'd say what meant to him nearly as much as Dean's love, if not more. His forgiveness.

"But I detect a note of forgiveness." Dean raised his head a bit in recognition. Cas was right then, Dean did forgive him. A twinkle lit up through Dean's eyes. Cas was fairly sure the twinkle was mirrored in his own. 

"Yeah, well, I'm probably gonna die tomorrow, so..." What a lovely thing to have, the threat of imminent death near. The things people finally admit to, the things they finally say. Funny how the only time in life humans act reasonably is when life is about to slip away. 

"Well, I'll go with you. And I'll do my best." Dean smiled slightly, and nodded through his thank you, like he was doing his best to hold it back, like he was still a little scared. Cas would be scared too. Cas was scared a little. But he had Dean. And Dean still wanted him, cursed or not. 

Cas stepped forward a bit, getting a little closer. Dean was. Dean was about to die, they both were. This was the last moment of just them, before the end. It was already perfect, and Cas didn't want to ruin it. But there are some risks that were worth taking. 

He placed his feet carefully, one a few inches away but in between Dean's feet and the other on Dean's left. Dean was looking at him wide eyed, like he wasn't sure what to think about Cas standing as close as he used to. Maybe a little closer. 

"Cas." Dean voice was grated, suddenly husky like he was about to cry or was just filled with a lot of emotions. Cas reached up a hand, placing it against Dean's neck. Dean looked down at him, his eyes watery with sadness and love and relief and hope and guilt and every emotion Cas could think of wasn't even a good enough description to measure it. 

Then Dean's eyelids fluttered shut, squeezing them a little like he was trying to wake himself up from a dream. Cas reached up, eyes on Dean until the very last moment. Cas's lips brushed up against Dean's, the slight dampness of Dean's lips making them stick to each other. Dean's bottom lip was pulled slightly in between Cas's as he leaned back away from Dean, unattaching their lips. Cas opened his eyes again, looking up at Dean's eyes quickly, seeing Dean's eyelids no longer squeezed shut, but instead closed in a peaceful serenity. Dean's mouth was parted just slightly, and he looked simply beautiful. 

Cas leaned up again, tilting his head to the side and bringing his mouth fully to Dean's slightly opened one. Dean responded instantly this time, his hand gripping Castiel's arm as his mouth slid against Cas's. Cas parted his lips, the insides of their mouths meeting, although neither swept out a tongue into the kiss. As much as Cas wanted to kiss Dean like the pizza man taught him, it was the wrong type of kiss, plus Cas was still pretty weak. And not 100% better. Just really close. 

Dean didn't move his hand from gripping Castiel's bicep muscle, and Cas's hand stayed on the junction of Dean's neck and his jaw, reveling how he could feel the muscles of Dean's jaw underneath his fingertips. Their bodies were frozen from the neck down, both of them afraid if they moved, it would shatter the fragile glass they were standing on. Dean tilted his head in the other direction, pressing his mouth against Castiel's at a new angle that made Cas's head spin. No matter what happened in the next 24 hours, Cas had this. The memory, the feeling low in his stomach, and bursting in his chest, the feeling of Dean's mouth against him, the scent of leather strong and the scent of Dean even stronger. 

If they were in any other day, Cas would zap them somewhere beautiful, so when Dean opened his eyes again he would be surrounded by the way Castiel felt inside right now. But not today. Cas didn't think he could ever pull away, but Dean finally did, tilting his head back straight as he slowly pulled their lips apart. There was a soft pop as they finally separated, and this time Cas was the last to open his eyes, still barely breathing. 

Dean was looking down at him, his face framed on one side by Cas's hand and his lips shiny slick, the bottom one slightly puffier than usual. Cas drew his eyes up to Dean's, almost a little afraid to see if there was any regret in Dean's eyes. Or worse, disappointment. Cas couldn't find any. They looked at each other for a little while before Cas slid his hand off Dean's neck, letting it settle by his side again. 

"We should probably go back." Dean's words were soft. Cas was still reeling, but in the best way possible. Cas nodded, looking over at the car. "Can you zap Baby too?" 

Cas smiled a little. Dean's eyes lit up in response. 

"We can try."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"We have to blow up the lab, Sam. Please." Sam grimaced. Damnit. He had an extremely bad feeling about this. This entire operation. Something was wrong, Sam had to get to Dean. He didn't have a lot of options though.

"Yeah, fine. Let's go." Sam booked out of the room, praying Kevin was following because Sam's heart felt like a ticking time bomb, he could feel the seconds left. Left til what? And where the hell were Dean and Cas?"

~*~*~*~

"This meeting's over." Dick stepped forward and suddenly Dean was shoved back. That had never happened to him before. Occasionally Sam would tug on his sleeve or attempt to be a moron and jump in front of Dean but Sam would never _push_ Dean out of the way. Dean looked down to see Cas's hand on his chest, then he stumbled backwards as Cas stepped into harm's way. 

Then there was breaking glass and Cas was on the ground across the room, Dick facing Dean again. Dean slammed the bone into Dick's chest, watching in surprise as the Leviathan doubled over. Dean stepped back, looking up at Dick's face, breathing through his mouth from the adrenaline. Dean stared wide-eyed at Dick as he pulled the sharpened bone out of his flesh, a terrifying grin erupting on his face. Dean looked down at the weapon, disbelief and shock written all over his face.

Dick snapped the bone in half, his glare on Dean triumphant. He dropped the pieces to his sides, the clatter of them hitting the floor masking the sounds of Castiel's feet.

"Did you really think you could trump _me?_ " This guy clearly had no idea who he was talking to. He was Dean Fucking Winchester. He didn't lose. But still, a bit of luck and Dean didn't mind telling him the truth.

"Honestly? No." The only reason why Dean hadn't thought they could get Dick was the feeling Dean had had in his stomach, that pit that made him so sure that this was the end. But then Castiel grabbed Dick's hair and tilted back his head, leaving his neck stretched and bare as Dean slid the real bone out of his jacket pocket. Dean shoved it into the side of Dick's neck, the bone going clean through and coming out the side. Castiel met his gaze for a second, both of them triumphant and a bit disbelieving.

Then the doors burst open and Dean felt Sam rush in, he didn't need to turn and see him. Dean could tell he was there, paused, waiting, like all of them while Dick yelled and thrashed his head the best he could with a bone through his neck. Dean couldn't take his gaze off, for fear Dick would somehow escape them. 

Dean could feel Sam's worry from all the way over here, could hear how fast Sam's breathing was, as he traded his gaze between Dean and Dick.

"Oh but did we have to catch you off guard." Dean stepped back a little as Dick's head became the Leviathan mouth thing, then suddenly froze. He stared at Dean, his mouth frozen in that eerie smile. Then a huge reverberation shot off of him and Dean's heart was suddenly beating as fast as Sam's. Dean looked to Cas, _did we do something wrong?_ then looked back to Dick, who was pulsating regularly now. Dean looked up and over, scanning the waves of air and trying to decide what the hell the were and what the hell they meant.

Sam's breathing sped up, Dean could feel it. He had to worry about Dick right now though, Sam could come in a second. Then suddenly black goo exploded everywhere, and Dean ducked and shielded his face in an attempt to shield himself. It was in vain, because within seconds everything was black.

And everything would stay black. For a very, very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Purgatory!
> 
> So I just created a Stumbling On the Road So Far tumblr because I had the urge
> 
> IT IS EXTREMELY AWESOME
> 
> http://flybynightgirl.tumblr.com/
> 
> you guys should go check it out. You don't have to follow it or anything but it's pretty rad I figured you'd all appreciate it
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> xx


	91. Abiding (We Need to Talk About Kevin  08x01)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a little warning, in case you guys have triggers.  
> Well, one, porn yeah. Two, we're talking rough. Three, maybe a bit of blood!play. Also kind of another one of those "mostly" consensual situations, but not rapey. 
> 
> Major hardcore domination time. And I have a song for you, to listen to during or after the second half. Flesh by Simon Curtis. 
> 
> Enjoy! Thank you for reading! xx

Sam opened the front door, surveying the place for a moment. It had been a long time since the first time Sam had been here alone, and the pain wasn't a sharp knife wound anymore, just an old bruise. Sam breathed in the clear Montana air, then crossed the threshold, taking a few slow steps inside. He'd just cleared the door when it was suddenly slammed shut, in tandem with Sam's body being slammed from the side. Sam landed on the ground with a thud, his entire body aching for a moment from the rough hit on the wooden boards.

Sam's brain was working as quickly as possible, but Sam hadn't had to react to a situation like this since forever. His instincts kicked in enough to be able to counter the arms of the tackler, who Sam finally caught in his sight. Dean. It was Dean. Then there was suddenly a flush of water on Sam's chest, and he turned his head away to try to keep it from getting in his eyes.

"What the –? I'm not a demon." Sam unshielded his face, looking up at Dean a little offended. He was answered by a flush of Borax to his chest. Oh _god_ that smell was horrible.

"Or a Leviathan. What –" Then Dean grabbed Sam's arm, pulling it up towards him. Sam dully recognized the fact that Dean was stradling him, knees on either side of Sam's hips, but propped up like he would have to get away any second. Then Sam's analysis was cut short as Dean slid a knife across Sam's skin, making a long stripe of pain shoot up. Dean roughly threw Sam's arm out of his grip the moment he finished cutting. Sam gasped in pain and covered the slit on his now bleeding arm with a hand, applying pressure and looking at it in pain.

"Or a shifter. Good." Sam looked up at Dean as he spoke, and suddenly it all came crashing down. That voice, deeper and rougher than Sam had remembered. The voice that had lulled him to sleep as a child, and whispered filthy things into his ear only a year and half ago, which somehow felt like eternity. Dean stood up, quickly and restless, his weight never settled over a certain place and always changing. Dean beckoned at Sam, the familiar hands even looking different, a pattern of scars Sam didn't know across the skin. Then the voice came again, the most familiar thing in Sam's life, but still not the exactly the same one as the voice engrained in Sam's memory. "My turn. Come on. Let's go."

"I don't need to. I know it's you." Sam raised his eyebrows in a _duh_ motion. Sam had eyes, after all, besides, a demon or a leviathan wouldn't spray Sam with their own test, Sam had seen the liquids splash on Dean's hands. And even if it hadn't, Sam could tell what Dean looked like as a Leviathan, or a shifter. Sam could tell. That wasn't good enough for Dean, always the cautious one. Although this was quite a bit more cautious than usual, but they hadn't seen in each other in a year, so it was understandable.

"Damn it, Sammy!" Dean had no idea how long it'd been since Sam had been called that. Since he'd heard that word, the one that haunted so many of his nightmares. Dean turned the bottles around and splashed himself with holy water and Borax as Sam clamored to his feet. Sam watched on, still feeling a little like this whole thing was ersatz, or some sort of freaky acid trip. Even though he knew it was Dean, how? Dean held out the knife to Sam, his face slightly pleading, but mostly impatient. "Come on!"

"No! Dean, can I just say hello?" Dean was moving at the speed of light, ever since the moment that he crashed into Sam, it all happened so fast Sam could barely register what was happening, let alone that Dean was here. What that meant. Dean looked at Sam exasperated, then rolled up his sleeve and slid the knife against his own skin.

"All right." A grin erupted out on Dean's face and he quickly wrapped his arm up with a piece of probably unsanitary fabric. Then his face turned up to Sam, his smile wider than Sam had seen for a long time, even before Dean had...well, not died apparently."Well... let's do this."

"I don't know whether to give you a hug or take a shower." Sam said it lightheartedly, and Dean laughed, a genuine laugh, even though it was quiet and distracted. Then Dean's arms were opening and he said a word that felt like it was straight out of dream.

"C'mere." 

Sam face slid up in a side grin as he stepped forward, a longer stride than Dean's. Sam pulled Dean in with a rough meeting of their chests, both of Sam's hands clapping Dean's back at the same time as Dean's body fit up against his. Dean's arm reached out further, encompassing the top of Sam's back and pulling them even closer than they had been. Dean was pressed so tightly up against him, Sam wasn't sure where his body ended and Dean's began. Sam stilled, frozen in his grin. Dean. Dean was in his arms. Sam's Dean. He was here, with Sam, safe again and tight against Sam's body. They swayed for a moment with the impact of their bodies together, then Dean suddenly stilled them, his fingers curling into Sam's shoulder deep enough to bruise. Sam breathed out a shocked, relieved breath, his mouth breaking in a bigger smile. Then Dean swayed them again, holding on to Sam like Sam was his anchor to the ground. 

Then they both pulled back, Dean's hands firmly wrapped around shoulders at he looked up and surveyed Sam's face, like he was scanning for injuries, and trying to re-memorize Sam's face at the same time. Sam looked away for a moment, the green flooding through Sam and making him dizzy.

"Dude. You're..." Sam turned out of Dean's grip, walking away to breath in air. Dean. God, Dean was here. Dean was okay. Sam's hands were in the air as he spoke, his emotions outruling the plan to keep entirely calm. This was Dean, after all. _Dean_ was okay. Sam ran his hands through his hair. This was just a little bit overwhelming. "freakin' alive. I mean, what the hell happened?"

"Well, I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory." Dean pursued his lips in the cheeky look Sam had forgotten Dean had. Sam was pretty sure his jaw was kind of on the floor, but _Purgatory_?

"You were in Purgatory?" Sam's voice broke on the word, his emotions welling up in his chest. Purgatory, home to the Leviathans and thousands of monsters. And Dean had been there, stuck there. How the hell was he alive? Dean had been there, in danger, without Sam, for god knows how long. Dean nodded at Sam, his eyes darting down as they suddenly flooded with memories. It was a look Sam hadn't seen since Dean had come back from Hell, the look in his eye of the pain and unbelievable horrors he'd seen and been in. "For the whole year?"

"Yeah." Dean looked down for a moment, his voice low and serious. "Time flies when you're running for your life."

"Well, how'd you get out?"

"I guess whoever built that box didn't want me in there any more than I did." It was the smile at the end that tipped Sam off. It wasn't Dean's usual joking smile, or his sassy sarcastic one either. It was the one that foretold he was burying a ton of shit, pretending everything was okay when it was so far from that.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm here, okay?" Dean was here. Sam just wanted to pull Dean in his arms again. He saw Dean, he could hear him in that new weathered voice of his, but Sam had the strange urge to just hug Dean again. Not to be sure, Sam was sure, it was just. Dean. But things were different now, everything was different now. A year had changed a lot in Dean, and a hell lot in Sam too.

"What about Cas? Was he there?" Dean nodded to himself, looking away from Sam before turning his body to the wall. He walked a few steps, his shoulders tensed. He didn't turn around when he spoke.

"Yeah, Cas didn't make it." 

"What exactly does that mean?" Sam moved too, walking a few steps closer to Dean, but to the side, where Dean would see when he turned around. Dean didn't turn around though, he kept talking to the wall, his shoulders tense and his head dipped a little.

"Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he... just let go." Sam knew it was hurting Dean to talk about this, that was extremely evident. But Cas was Sam's friend too, Sam had a right to know.

"So Cas is dead? You saw him die?"

"I saw enough." That didn't mean anything.

"So, then what, you're not sure?" Dean turned back to Sam, his entire body screaming for Sam to drop the topic. 

"I said I saw enough, Sam." Dean's words sounded vaguely deadly, like they were laced through with poison. Sam knew that was it, the breaking point. If he asked another question, inquired more, Dean would snap. And based on how Dean was already extremely on edge, had been since he'd showed up and knocked Sam to the floor. It was understandable now though, that Dean had been in Purgatory. He must still be a little tense from hunting monsters.

"Right." But if Cas was dead, that had to have taken a major toll on Dean. Cas meant a lot more to Dean than Dean cared to admit, at least to Sam anyways, but Sam knew. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"Me too. So you – I can't believe you're actually here." Dean walked to the fridge, getting out two beers, which much have been habit for him. Sam avoided drinking as much as possible lately. At first, when Dean was first gone, Sam had nearly died because of alcohol poisoning, but he quickly got out of that stage, after about two weeks of hell. He'd had a drink a few times since that, but nothing more than a beer or two, and only because someone offered him one. Dean put the other beer on the other side of the little table, in front of the empty seat that Dean must have assumed Sam would sit down in, sit across from him and just talk like old times? Tap at Dean's foot with his shoe like he used to? Sam couldn't. He stayed standing, across from Dean. "You know that half your numbers are out of service? Felt like I was leaving messages in the wind."

And then it came. Sam had to explain. Dean didn't understand at first, couldn't physically comprehend the words _stopped hunting_. Sam tried explaining, but once Dean realized, once it finally dawned on him, fully, he clammed up and stopped listening, just sitting in shock and staring at Sam. Sam felt bad, having to tell Dean this, but what else was Sam supposed to do? Dean didn't know what it was like, to be left behind like that. Hell, Dean had gone to Lisa after Sam jumped in Lucifer's cage. Dean had stopped hunting. Sam would think Dean would be a little more understanding. But the look Dean gave him was one that said he was no better than the things he was-well, not-hunting. 

"So you just turned tail on the family business."

"Nothing says "family" quite like the whole family being dead." 

"I wasn't dead." Right, and how was Sam supposed to know that? Dean stood up from his seat, his words sharp as knives as he passed Sam, walking behind him to force Sam to turn around and follow Dean with his eyes. "In fact, I was knee-deep in God's armpit killing monsters, which, I thought, is what we actually do."

"Yes, Dean. And far as I knew, what we do is the thing that got every single member of my family killed. I had no one – no one. And for the first time in my life, I was completely alone." _I couldn't do it without you, Dean. You were the last thing I had left, the only thing that was ever really mine. And you were dead._ Sam remembered the loneliness the most vividly out of everything in the past year. Even when his bed wasn't empty, Sam felt like he was always missing something. "And, honestly, I-I didn't exactly have a roadmap. So, yeah, I-I fixed up the Impala, and I just... drove."

"After you looked for me." Dean had his eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed. Staring at Sam accusingly. Sam didn't say anything, couldn't. Sam wasn't sure he could explain to Dean what had happened while he was gone, not if Dean couldn't even understand why Sam quit hunting. " _Did_ you look for me, Sam?"

The "Sam" was soft, the only thing soft about Dean so far, and it stood out. It was the first clue, the first tell of pain Sam had seen on Dean. Just that one word said everything. Dean couldn't bear the thought of what he had just realized. Dean was waiting, practically begging Sam with his eyes to correct him, tell Dean of course, I searched for you everywhere, just kept the memory of your face as present as possible in my brain when I'd just lost you forever, and I was told I was for once truly entirely alone but someone who would definitely know. Sam looked away.

"Good. That's good. Now, we – we... always told each other not to look for each other." Sam breathed in a deep breath. He wasn't sure which was worse, Dean pretending not to be heartbroken, or if Dean had decided to punch Sam. Sam was pretty sure right now he'd take the punch. "That's smart. Good for you. Of course, we always ignored that because of our deep, abiding love for each other, but not this time, right, Sammy?"

Deep abiding love for each other. Deep, everlasting love for each other. Dean never said that, he never called it love. Only one other time, so long ago. But now he said it plainly, like he'd been saying it all along and Sam just hadn't been listening. And then came the twist in the gut. The smile, the chipper "but not this time, right, _Sammy?_ " Dean hated him in this moment. Sam could feel it. From over here, he could hear the shattering of Dean's heart. Dean thought that they- them, him and Dean- meant nothing to Sam. After everything they'd done for each other, every fight for each other and every ounce of pain they went through to be together meant nothing. Sam could read it all over Dean's face. 

But it wasn't true, none of it was. It was all _because_ he loved Dean so much, too much. Sam couldn't do that, not when he was so sure Dean was dead, Sam wasn't sure he could take the disappointment of looking for Dean and never finding him. If Sam looked, and engrained a single ounce of hope in his body, the moment that bubble of hope was crushed, Sam was probably taking both himself and the Impala off the nearest cliff. So yeah, Sam hadn't looked. Sam couldn't. Breathing without Dean was hard enough, everything around Sam was Dean. Literally every fucking thing reminded him of his brother. 

Sam couldn't look at his hands, he saw the empty spaces between his hands as the places where Dean's fingers were supposed to go. Sam couldn't look at the seat next to him, all he saw was the grin of his brother, or Dean curled up sleeping, against the window when he had just gotten Sam from Stanford. Then a year later, Dean would sleep with his head on the back of the seat, a little closer to Sam in case Sam had a premonition. Then a year after that, he slept sprawled out in the seat, feet kicked up on the dash in his fake nonchalance of his last year. Then the year after that, tensely sitting up straight, with just his eyes squeezed shut and his head turned a little towards the window. Then the year after that, sleeping with his head against the window, but facing Sam, always facing Sam even in his sleep. And then the next time they'd been together, two years after that, where Dean slept with his head resting back on the seat again, looking at the roof of the car and making Sam wonder if Dean was thinking about Lisa. Then the year after that, where Dean slept with his head on Sam's lap, finally officially together and okay. So Sam couldn't, couldn't even turn his head to look at shotgun. 

Sam couldn't look at an empty second bed, and broke down every time he accidentally got two beds out of habit. Sam couldn't look at himself in the mirror, not when his shirt was off. All Sam saw was his tattoo, Dean's tattoo, the ink etched into Sam's skin as a permanent reminder that the matching tattoo to the one over Sam's heart didn't exist anymore. Sam couldn't look at his own hipbones, all he saw was phantom bruises in the shapes of Dean's thumbprints. Sam couldn't go outside at night for a long time. That was the worst one. Sam couldn't go out, above him the black sky just reflecting the inside of Sam. Sam couldn't go out, because Sam couldn't look at the stars. 

Dean didn't know. Dean didn't know Sam still loved him with every single fiber in his being. Sam was still the same, still the man that laid down beside Dean every night, still the man who loved Dean so much.

"Look, I'm still the same guy, Dean." Sam looked up at Dean a little shyly, not sure where they were in there relationship right now. They weren't dating anymore, that much was obvious, but Sam didn't know if Dean's feelings had changed while he was in Purgatory. Maybe Dean had fallen in love with Cas? Maybe Dean had realized he didn't love Sam in _that way_ anymore. Then Dean's mouth curved up, his eyes crinkling in a smile that ripped into Sam's gut.

"Well, bully for you. I'm not."

Then Dean turned and stormed out, calmly closing the door behind him. Sam stared after the closed door, his pissed off brother on the other side, going who knows where.

"Welcome back," Sam said. He bit his lip and did everything he could not to cry. Sam didn't want Dean to see him like that. Not now. Dean would just glance over him, walk past him. Brush off Sam's tears as dramatic and pointless. So Sam stifled them back. He'd get Dean to understand, eventually. Hopefully. Maybe.

Sam couldn't break down. Not now. Not when Dean was here now. Sam should have been celebrating, but instead he spent the next twenty minutes fretting, waiting. He felt ridiculous, waiting for Dean, thinking Dean wasn't going to come back. Codependency was something Sam had weaned himself off of, although now that was all thrown away, now that Dean was here. Sam needed Dean just as badly as he ever did. Nothing between them would ever change that.

Not for Sam.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean knew Sam was about to walk out of the bathroom before he did it. He could hear the slight grind of Sam's heel as he turned away from the mirror, placing a foot in front of the other on the cold plasticy tiles. Dean could hear the cars rushing by outside, he could hear the clock on the nightstand, terrifyingly repetitive. The same two pitches over and over and over and over one two one two one two. Dean couldn't hear the wind, and it felt like he was indefinitely lost. Without the wind in his ears, there was no way to hear when...something came. No way to pick up and track smells. Dean wasn't even going to start in on the scent of this motel room. It was like the fake lights were unrealistic and pointless. 

It wasn't quite like being a vampire, instead of everything being more confusing and overwhelming, everything was strangely underwhelming. Dean hadn't killed something in days, and it felt like maybe he was just being blind, like there was something watching him from behind a tree, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and Dean wasn't ready, he was just sitting here unprepared and his scathe in his bag was too far away and-

"You okay?" Dean looked at him for a few seconds before he continued his scan. Dean's hands were restless, his fingers entwining with each other in a subconscious want to be held. Dean heard a soft thump outside, probably a car door. Although it could be anything else too. Staying in the same place for this long, it was risky.

"Yeah." Dean answered mindlessly. He was fine, he was. He just wasn't sure this was the safest place, and Sam might not understand that, but maybe they should go. Dean turned his head to the side, picking up on another sound. It was some sort of machine kicking in to gear, somewhere further away than what Sam would notice. Dean turned back to Sam, aware all along that Sam had been watching him.

"What do you say we blow this joint and hit the road?" Sam's head drew back in surprise. His face furrowed in slight confusion. 

"Now?"

"Yeah. Kevin's not getting any more found." At least they had a goal, a place to go. This whole "resting" thing was a little unnecessary. They should drive. They should go. Get out of here. Dean needed to kill something, something was wrong, nothing was after them. Surely something wanted him dead? Or followed him? They should go.

"That kid survived a year without us. He'll be okay for another twelve hours. Besides, when's the last time you slept?" Did it matter? Besides, the entire world can go from appearingly empty to surrounded with evil chaos in three seconds, Dean was fairly sure a lot could happen in twelve hours. Sam was scrutinizing him, looking at Dean like it was a sin not to sleep. Like it was Sam's personal mission from God to get Dean to waste time in this motel room, when Kevin was out there on his own. Thanks to Sam.

"Hmm." Dean looked away from Sam. He wasn't listening as hard now, he was thinking about Sam. If Sam had been in Purgatory with him they would have both died in a day. Sam was distracting.

"What?"

"Nothing. Is that, uh is that how you rationalize taking a year off?" Dean had been killing, conquering. Sam had disappeared into pointlessness. Sam breathed in, like he already knew what Dean would say and Dean was wrong. "People will be okay."

"People _were_ okay, Dean." People were never okay. There was always another bend, another nest of monster around the next corner. Always the last guy who'd hid out until the last moment, jumping up from behind. Always. Sam looked at him like he was a broken child in a Sanitarium. "You're okay."

Dean couldn't tell if that was a psychological trip in an attempt to comfort him, or a stupid observation, or Sam just trying to convince himself of it by saying it out loud.

"Wow." Dean huffed and smiled, ducking his head in disbelief. Sam had no idea. No fucking idea.

"Look, I did what we _promised_ we'd do. I moved on. I lived my life." Yeah, well Dean's life was Sam. Or getting back to him. In any fucking way possible.

"Yeah, no, I'm gettin that."

"Look, it wasn't like I was... just oblivious. I mean, I read the paper every day. I saw the weird stories…" Sam crossed over and sat on the other bed, facing Dean. Dean was sitting on the edge, the bed was strangely compressable, it'd be nearly impossible to jump up from if he needed to. All mush. But Dean sat anyways. For a while. Maybe he'd move to the floor later. "…the kind of stuff we used to chase."

"And you said what? "Not my problem"?" Dean looked away. How they had been so different, Dean had no idea. If Dean had known, in Purgatory, that Sam was up here reading the paper with his breakfast then tossing it aside. If Dean had known.

"Yes. And you know what? The world went on." 

"People died, Sam." Sam didn't know he was single-handedly responsible for every single innocent life taken that Sam not only had the power to save, he had an incredible skill set specific to such a small few, Sam was the only hope for these people?

"People will always die, Dean. Or maybe another hunter took care of it. I don't know, but the point is, for the first time, I realized that it wasn't only up to me to stop it." That couldn't be it. Sam was keeping something from him.

"Hmm. So what was it, hmm? What could possibly make you stop just like that? " Sam made a face and looked away. That's what Dean thought, it was a soft spot for Sam. Dean could see it, the blantant weakness there. And knowing Dean's fabulous luck, it'd be exactly Dean's worst fear. "A girl? Was there a girl?"

"The girl had nothing to do with it." Sam had- Sam.

"There was a girl." Sam had left him to die for a girl. A pretty bitch with a nice smile had ripped Dean's entire world away from him. His entire everything had been shredded, ripped to millions of pieces in front of his eyes. All for a girl. Sam hadn't just left the job for a year, Sam had left _Dean_. 

"Yeah. There was." Dean felt numb. Sam had replaced him. So easily, just thrown away what Dean had been fight for since he was twenty-two. For more than ten years, and Sam just tossed him aside like another one night stand. "And then there wasn't. Any more questions?"

Dean had a thousand more questions. He wanted to know, needed to know. Everything. Dean looked down at his hands, clasped in themselves. There were bruises staring to form on the backs of both of his hands, his fingers digging into his skin as the adrenaline had began rushing through him. The dead time, the lack of kills was catching up to Dean. Fast. He could feel the world closing in, and opening up, he needed to go, to run, feel the shake of the world under his feet. Needed to breath in the cold, freshened air, feel the sweet drip of blood off of his hands. End another creature of evil, hunt down more chaos and end it from this world, purifying and running and hunting. 

Dean was shaking a little before, but now. There was a girl, Sam had left him, and it was all closing down, making Dean's heart beat even faster. Dean dropped his head down, sucking in a breath as he tried to ground himself. He was out, he was out. There was nothing there, nothing to hun-

The soft thud of a footstep echoed, zeroed out everything else. One moment Dean's head was spinning and the next everything was crystal clear, in slow motion HD, sound waves from the thud practically reverberating into Dean's mind. Dean's body lit up, finally, beautifully sweeping in a circle, his fingers flicking the handle of his blade into his palm in milliseconds, his weight balanced gracefully over his feet as he spun around, his torso twisting as his forearm flew out, perfectly arced to strike against the target, knocking the mass of muscle down, using gravity and a flick of Dean's ankle to pull down quicker, knocking out the target's legs and landing them on the ground. Dean swooped down, knees on either side of the target's hips, primal and powerful as his blade hand pressed up against the soft flesh of the target's throat, the deadly sharp metal glinting in contrast to skin. The entire takedown was over in four seconds, one of Dean's faster.

It wasn't until Dean was on the ground straddling Sam with his knife pressed against Sam's throat that Dean realized it was Sam. The recognition was the only thing that stopped Dean from slicing his blade through Sam's esophagus. That and the habit of asking a simple question before each of his victims met their death. _Where's the angel?_

Sam was looking up at him wide-eyed, his jaw slack and lips parted in either shock or having his breath knocked out of him, his pretty little mouth opened up and looking so familiar. Dean could still feel adrenaline pumping through his veins, his vision three dimensional and crystal. He regarded Sam with the same eyes he watched all of his victims with, narrowed eyes and a demonic little smile, his head cocked to the side. 

Dean evaluated the situation quickly, feeling Sam's heartbeat, so fast, beneath the hand he had pinned on Sam's chest. Dean could feel the blood rushing under the layers of skin on the backs of his fingers holding the knife to Sam's neck. He could feel the sharp prod on the insides of thighs where they were pressed tightly against the bones of Sam's hips. Dean could feel the pulsating heat underneath him where the zipper of his jeans was pressed up against the zipper of Sam's. The heat was spark red, like the shining of blood at the edge of his scythe, the sharp smell mixing in the triumph of a successful nearly impossible kill. Dean had come to connect those, like the Palsy dog, the sight of blood and the rush of victory, purity, power. 

Dean didn't realize what he was doing until a thin sliver of blood pooled against his knife. Sam gasped, frozen under Dean and the slit in the side of Sam's neck, where his skin split and shone through an inch of shining red, a single drop running down the side of his neck. Dean watched the ruby gem roll down sweet muscle, mesmerized. Dean lifted his knife off of Sam's skin, letting it glint in the light and reflect back to him a glimpse of his own darkened eyes. There was just a thin line of red across the edge, the cut on Sam's neck shallow and only an inch long. 

Dean transferred the knife to his left hand, his eyes snapping to the matching red line on Sam's neck. Dean leaned forward, reaching out his right fingertips to gently touch the red cut. Sam gasped again, his throat making a strangled noise halfway between pain and fear. Dean's eyes lit up, and snapped up again, meeting Sam's widened ones. Sam's eyes were searching, confused, scared, either of Dean or of trying to snap the adrenaline out of Dean. Dean's grin quirked up on one side at that, scanning from Sam's eyes down to where their lower bodies were pressed together, Dean still sitting on Sam's hips. Everything was in perfect clarity and sweetness, Dean could feel the rush of Sam's heart beneath him. 

Dean looked up and locked his eyes on Sam's again. There was another emotion Dean could slice into those eyes. He reached his right hand forward again, pressing his thumb fully on the red line on Sam's neck. _Victory, purity, power_. Dean watched Sam's eyes register the pain. Then Dean lifted his hips a little, watching Sam's eyes for emotion. Dean suddenly grinded down his hips, pressing his thumb harder against the blood at the same time. Sam gasped again, this one breathy. Sam's pupils widened this time, his eyes darkening a little. 

Dean sparked then, his entire body lighting up in his adrenaline. Dean circled down his hips again, grinding his ass and erection against the warmth building in Sam's jeans. His thumb rubbed in a circle, smearing what little of the blood hadn't dried yet. 

"D-Dean," Sam breathed. It was a plea. A plea for him to stop or go, Dean had no idea. Dean's eyes flickered down to Sam's chest again, pushing his pelvis in a circle again. Sam arched up into Dean, his back leaving the ground for a moment. That was all the permission Dean's overadrenalized body needed. 

Seconds later Dean's mouth was covering Sam's parted lips. Dean pulled Sam's bottom lip into his mouth with a suctioning motion, dragging his teeth across the sensitive inside. Sam's breathing hitched, and Dean lapped the whimper out of Sam's mouth with his tongue, dragging it over every inch of Sam's lips and teeth and pallet that Dean had had memorized once. Dean nipped and bit at Sam's lips and tongue, all the while grinding down hard on Sam's dampening jeans. 

Dean's right hand fingers curled around the back of Sam's neck, his thumb resting on the bruising cut still. Dean changed the angle of their mouths, forcing Sam's head to the side with the grip he had on Sam's neck. Sam made another pitiful noise and Dean soaked it up, biting particularly hard into Sam's swollen bottom lip. Dean drew his head back slowly, dragging Sam's lip through his teeth until it released with a soft pop.

Dean stilled his rough hip motions and sat back up. Dean straightened, arching his spine and swiveling once against Sam's erection, slow enough to be torture. Dean let out a low, loud moan, parting his lips and closing his eyes as he turned his face to the ceiling. Dean took nearly a minute of his slow swivel before he dropped his head back down, his eyes glossed over with sated pleasure. Sam's lips were parted again, panting in an effort not to thrust his hips up against Dean, get some real friction. Dean's mouth turned up again on one side, curling into a triumphant smirk. 

Then Dean stilled entirely, lifting his left hand off the carpet where it had been gripped tightly around the handle of his knife, Sam's blood dried to the end. Dean turned the knife over in his hand, transferring it to his right hand again. Dean looked at it glint under the light again, just for a moment. Then Dean turned his torso, drawing his arm back and flipping the knife around with a quick twist and catch of his fingers. Then Dean released his arm forward, watching in slow motion again as the knife grazed out of his fingertips, flipping head over heel through the air, its rapid movement trained in a perfectly straight line. The knife slit into the French style lightswitch, the lovely kind that turned off or on just by applying pressure instead of having to flip a switch. The second the knife hit the switch, the overhead light blackened, leaving only the light of the street lights filtering through the slits of the blinds. The bed next to them was bathed in golden stripes, and as lovely as those would look against Sam's bare flesh, the primal purgatory instinct kept Dean pining Sam on the floor. 

When Dean looked down at Sam, there was a sort of shy arousal in what parts of Sam's features Dean could see. Dean wasn't patient though, the urges to spill blood still flowing through his veins. But Dean could just spill the next closest bodily fluid.

Dean bent in half, his arms wrapping underneath Sam's shoulder blades and rubbing the skin on the backs of his hands, pressing against the fresh bruises there. Sam tilted his head up, seeking Dean's mouth, even through the pain Dean had bitten there. Dean sidelined Sam's wet lips, nipping his jaw instead. Sam's breathing picked up even more, his hands finally leaving their clenched fists at his sides and scrabbling at Dean's back. 

Dean sat back up again, pulling Sam up with him. Sam groaned at the stretch to his quad muscles, but Dean ignored him, biting down Sam's neck roughly. Then Dean was pushing Sam's clothes off his shoulders, a slight ripping sound echoing as Dean tugged Sam's last shirt over his head, tossing it aside almost angrily. Dean put a hand on Sam's bare chest, shoving him hard back down onto the floor. Sam landed with a grunt, and Dean practically threw his shirts off. 

Sam reached up for him but Dean scooted backwards, propping his ass on Sam's upper thighs. Dean lowered his mouth to Sam's hipbone, biting the skin along his v-muscle, down to the button of Sam's jeans. Dean unbuttoned them swiftly, lifting Sam's lower back with one hand and ripping off his jeans with the other, pushing them down past Sam's knees, his boxers next to go, and just as quickly. Sam sucked in a breath at the cold air, being naked down to his calves with nothing but carpet beneath him to isolate anything. Dean slipped out of his jeans and boxers too, tugging Sam's off his feet impatiently. 

Then Dean was crawling back up Sam, one hand hooked underneath one of Sam's knees, pulling it up to Sam's chest. Sam grabbed Dean's bicep, but Dean just shook off his hand, reaching up with his free arm to shove his fingers in Sam's mouth. Sam gagged in surprise, but by the time he registered they were there, Dean pulled them back out again with a sickly wet pop, bringing his hand down to Sam's bare entrance. Dean smeared Sam's saliva against his hole, which made Sam flinch and shiver like a virgin. Dean looked up, meeting Sam's eyes again and speaking, low and gravely.

"No one touched you here in a while, huh kiddo?" Sam just groaned in response, throwing his head to the side as Dean pushed two fingers inside. Dean speared them deeper inside Sam, lower his face down inches away from Sam's neck. Dean bit just to the side of the dark red dried line, not letting his mouth go anywhere near the blood. Dean would never stoop that low, not when Sam had been sucking blood from demons, their filthy red body parts flooding over Sam's pretty mouth. No, Dean would never put blood in his mouth intentionally. But the areas around the cut were sore enough to serve purpose, and Dean sucked dark purpling marks around the sensitive skin.

"Answer me," Dean growled, twisting his fingers inside Sam and scissoring them roughly, pulling Sam open further than he was stretched for. Sam let out a cry, squeezing his eyes shut. Dean grabbed Sam's face with his free hand, turning Sam's head to face him. Sam opened his eyes, tears welling at the corners.

"Sam."

"No, Dean. J-just you." Dean released Sam's face and leaned back again, scooting behind Sam's raised leg. Dean scanned his eyes over Sam's body, undressed and spread out for him, untouched and unchanged save for a few mystery scars. No hickies, fingernail marks, bruises. Either she was very vanilla in bed or Sam dumped her a long time ago. Sam noticed Dean's survey, and watched Dean curiously underneath watermatted eyelashes. Dean pulled his fingers out of Sam's body, wrapping his hand up around Sam's dick and pumping it once, collecting all of the wet precum leaking from the head and transferring it onto himself, slicking up haphazardly and quickly. Then Dean lined up, propping Sam's knee up as he pushed into Sam's barely prepared body. 

Sam writhed and shook, his body shaking in the way that let Dean know Sam wasn't lying. Sam really hadn't been fucked for a year. Dean found a new energy in that idea, that he got to steal this Sam's new virginity all over again. Dean rolled his hips, tilting forwards and driving inside Sam deep. Sam cried out again, and Dean tilted his angle a little to the side, pushing into Sam faster. Sam was scraping his short nails against Dean's back, sinking them into Dean's spine. Dean picked up a pace, fast deep and rough. There wasn't enough lube to be comfortable, but it wasn't bad enough that Sam was going to hate him in the morning. He wasn't going to be able to walk if Dean had anything to do about it, though.

Sam thrashed his head to the side, taking each pump of Dean's hips with a punched noise, occasional cries. At one point Sam started moaning Dean's name, crying it out in an eerie reverberation. Dean felt like they mirrored the cries he'd felt from Sam, once they were separated by the walls of Purgatory. Although Dean must have been imagining the cries he heard, because after all, Sam didn't look for him. 

Dean shoved into Sam at that thought, the skin on Dean thighs stinging a little where they smacked against Sam's ass. Sam laid there and took it, either extremely guilty for leaving Dean to die, for leaving humanity to die, or maybe he was just afraid of what Dean would do if Sam didn't cooperate. Honestly, Dean had no idea what instinct would kick in. After all, Dean had almost slit Sam's throat earlier for standing up, just the sound of Sam's footstep on the floor had been a trigger. 

Dean brought his mouth back down, sinking his teeth into the meat on the top of Sam's shoulder. Sam's shoulder automatically tensed up, those damn beautiful hunter muscles that wasted all that time doing nothing. On the occasion Sam and Dean played it rough, there was a limit point, an unspoken, uncrossed line. Dean had no idea what that line had ever been. He kept his grip on Sam's shoulder until he felt something give, pulling back his mouth just before blood welled to the surface, beading tiny droplets in the two places where Dean's canines had been. 

Sam's eyes were closed, his body rocking against the carpet. It was a good thing this carpet was threadbare, otherwise that might call for some nasty rugburn on Sam's back. Dean rose his body above his brother's as he increased his speed just a little, decidedly twitching his hips over and shoving into Sam's prostate. Sam's eyes shot open and he screamed, Dean's name, over and over until it was nothing more than a whisper. Dean had saved that, knowing exactly where Sam's sweet spot was and exactly how to hit it with the perfect angle. There was not a single thing about Sam's body Dean didn't remember. But Dean wasn't kissing any of Sam's favourite spots or tonguing over the crevice in his spine, this wasn't about pleasing Sam. This was about making him _feel_ it, remember every single moment he'd been missing, see every pented up wish for Sam that Dean had had every day for the past year. 

Dean hadn't expected it to go like this, actually. Dean had ridden to Montana from New Orleans with fantasies about kissing Sam again the whole way there. Dean had wanted to pull his brother into a hug, sit down and talk, then just hold Sam for a while, necking like teenagers before they finally set out to the bed, Dean kissing worshipfully up Sam's body, whoever topping, it didn't matter, just so long as they were together.

Dean hadn't counted on this edge, the jitters from Purgatory leftovers. He hadn't counted on everything being so loud and dangerous and human. He hadn't counted on Sam not loving him anymore, of Sam leaving him for a girl, quitting the job and quitting Dean for a _girl_. 

And so here they were, quite the opposite of Dean's fantasies, Dean fucking Sam into oblivion on the _floor_ , Sam's blood on his knife and more bitemarks on Sam than scars. Or, well, almost. 

The rush was just as sweet, almost as sweet, maybe more sweet than the sliding of Dean's scythe through the pale skin of a monster, watching the bad fall as they trekked through the most dangerous woods of any to exist. Moving inside Sam like this, making Sam fall apart beneath him, raw and open, the feeling of Sam closed all around him, watching the bruises in the shape of Dean's own mouth blossoming over Sam's neck, chest, hips. The taste of Sam, salty and familiar under Dean's tongue. Of all those miles of unused muscle and toned body, Dean's for the taking, Dean's for the claiming. 

The coil in Dean's stomach had been there for a while, but he'd been holding off, letting Sam feel it, feel it _deep_. If Dean got sucked back into Purg tomorrow, Sam would still have evidence of Dean on him weeks from now. Dean was almost a little disappointed Sam's girl didn't get to see it, how purely entirely _Dean's_ Sam was, his fingers and mouth and body leaving marks, his, his, _his_ , all over Sam. 

It was beautiful, Sam like this. Sammy, who was falling apart, being split in two under Dean's dick, screaming these sweet sounds of pleasure, mixed with pain. Screams were familiar, they lit up something inside him that remembered, the part of him that had gotten them in this situation in the first place. The animalistic instinct and thirst for blood, for slicing, for screams. Dean would've closed his eyes from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, but closed eyes meant danger could attack, closed eyes equalled death. The tight heat of Sam around him was something Dean hadn't had in Purgatory, the rough beauty of sex. Killing had become just a pleasureful, and a few rough moments had lead to a couple of...heated makeout sessions with a certain angel, but even if Dean had decided to take it further with Cas, there wasn't exactly time to fuck when you were constantly under siege. Talk about letting your guard down.

But now, there wasn't any vamps or monsters or dogs attacking (yet) and Dean had no reason but to drill into Sam, take them both beyond the edge, getting the adrenaline Dean's body _craved_ in a different outlet than slicing through flesh. Dean hated to be needy, but he would admit. He needed this. 

Dean reached down and wrapped an oddly clean (Dean's skin was so much lighter now, it was odd to look down and see hands that looked like they didn't belong to him, no dirt or blood caked underneath his fingers) hand around Sam's reddened dick, tugging on it roughly as he twisted into Sam's prostate again. That induced a scream of Dean's name, Sam arching his back and heating up, his eyes rolling back in his head as he trembled. Dean held Sam here for a moment, not in an embrace but gripping him teetering over the edge, watching as Sam screamed and fought, a beautiful wreck and disaster under Dean. A deep red burning pleasure arched up through Dean, the victory of a victim turning to putty under his hands. Watching as his own hands tore through shreds of blood and skin in the dark forest surrounding him. 

Sam's body spasmed, and white arched up onto Dean's chest, just the opposite of the dark red he was used to. Sam tightened around Dean and he drove into Sam with his killing blow, the crash of something deeper than ever before. Dean released into Sam, his body fluids spilling into his brother, sparks of white and red dancing in front of his eyes. Sam was making pitiful noises beneath him, his grip on Dean's back loosening from the deathly cling of his high. Even through the white hot bliss Dean felt a slight sting as Sam's nails unattached from his skin, probably leaving slight red dots of blood in their wake. The bite on Sam had dried over, just like the red cut on his neck. Dean slowly took all these things in note, still aware after his orgasm, although slightly dazed. Dean remembered there had been a time Dean could pass out seconds after Sam fucked him, but any sort of relaxation like that had been drilled out of Dean's body through pain and danger. 

Dean pulled out of Sam slowly, vaguely aware he used to wince at the oversensitization of sliding out of Sam and now he barely noticed it. It wasn't as though Dean didn't feel everything between Sam and him, though. Dean felt plenty of that. Actually, it was still reverberating through his body as he leaned against the bed, his head against the edge of the mattress and his thigh pressed up against Sam's hip. Sam had his eyes closed, his long hair flowing away from his face as he kept where he was, laying on the ground. Dean looked at Sam while he felt he could. Things felt different now, between him and Sam. Like Sam didn't feel the same way about him. Sam couldn't, after all Sam had left him for a girl.

Dean hung his head down, looking at the backs of his hands, striped white with Sam's come, but white under that too. Cleanliness. The hot fire that had been pumping through Dean's veins was subsiding, the adrenaline and need to kill draining out of him. So apparently sex was an adequate enough replacement for killing for Dean's Purgatory-adjusted body. That was good to know.

Dean's head still shot up as Sam made a quiet noise and struggled into a sitting position. Sam was looking at Dean carefully, like he was afraid moving might mean another knife to the throat. It was a rational enough fear, Dean wouldn't deny that. Dean looked away from Sam, keeping his hands relaxed in front of him and his shoulders down to let Sam see he wasn't on edge anymore. Sam climbed to his feet and winced his way into the shower, walking bowlegged like Dean. There wasn't any sort of blood following Sam, so he was still okay. Calm Dean breathed out a sigh of relief. To be honest, he still scared himself a little bit, how he hardly had control of the muster machine in his fingertips.

Dean stumbled to his feet, making his way to the sink and washing himself off with a washcloth. So goddamn clean. 

His clothes were spread out on the floor with Sam's but Dean managed to find them all and scoop them up, tugging on his boxers and tshirt before he wrestled into his jeans and over shirt. Sam was still in the shower so Dean gathered Samm's clothes, putting his boxers on the top of the pile and his flannel on the bottom. 

Dean turned around and walked into the bathroom, stopping in front of the shower and stooping over to set Sam's clothes on the ground when the shower cut off and the curtain opened. Dean looked up to see Sam wrapped in a towel, his eyes looking at Dean in surprise. 

"Uh, thanks." Dean avoided Sam's gaze and took a step backwards, dipping his head down and grabbing the back of his neck with a hand shyly.

"Yeah." Then Dean was retreating, back out in the bedroom before this got more uncomfortable. He paused once he reached his bed, thinking how squishy and fake and trapping it felt. He moved around to the front of the bed and sat down on the floor. That was much better. 

Sam came out of the bathroom dressed, and raised an eyebrow at Dean's seating choice. Dean just gave Sam a mini shrug and Sam kept walking, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds. 

It wasn't quiet for long, Dean could feel Sam twisting his hands, trying to figure out what to say. He finally spoke up, his voice quiet but firm.

"Listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy to you. I don't even necessarily need you to understand. But...you need to know. I didn't just drop out, Dean. I found something. Something I've... never had all my life."

That stung. Dean knew he wasn't perfect, but he didn't know Sam wanted out that badly. What a great gift to come home to.

"Yeah, what was her name?"

"Amelia." There goes a name that's never going to be the same. The next time they've got a waitress, witness, victim with that name Dean is going to bristle up and become this suddenly inhospitable creature. 

"So, what, you, uh, you dropped your peanut butter in her chocolate? How'd it happen?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know because it was going to hurt, but at the same time this was Sammy, who Dean knows everything about. Even in the two years without contact at Stanford, Dean had still checked up on Sam. How could he not? Every time they got separated by Hell or something, Dean always got the story. It would be the same now, just quite a bit more painful. Considering they'd been _dating_ and Sam left him for some chick. 

"I hit a dog."

Dean turned around and glared at Sam, pointing a finger accusingly. 

"I knew I smelled dog."

"And I knew you'd throw a bitch fit." Bitch fit? It was a freaking _dog_.

"Hey, the rules are simple, Sam. You don't take a joint from a guy named Don, and there's no dogs in the car!"

Sam just made a face. He clearly didn't care about the dog rule. There were probably a ton of rules Sam didn't care about. Or remember. How much had Sam forgotten while Dean was gone? How much of Dean did he forget? How much of Dean still mattered to Sam? Just the brother part? Or not even that? 

"All right, what about you?" Wait, what parts of Sam had Dean forgotten? No, Dean hadn't said that out loud. It was absolutely nothing, though. Dean saw Sam's face everywhere, the hazel colours in his eyes in the bark of every tree. Sam was what got Dean through his year, and apparently the _absence_ of Dean is what got Sam through his year. 

"What about me?"

"Look at you. You've still got that look. You're shaky. You're on edge." _You just tackled me and roughed me up and wrecked me because you heard a single footstep._ "What was it like?"

Dean huffed. Sam had no idea. Even pre-Amelia Sam might not have understood, how was this watered down, weak imitation of his brother supposed to understand?

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Dean couldn't decide if Sam felt obligated to ask, or if maybe he was just being the curious "Knoweldge is Power" Sam that was getting his testimony to write down in Dads journal. If Sam even still had it. Because Dean just wasn't sure if he could believe that Sam asked because he cared. Sam hadn't cared enough to follow the only rule about his baby. Freaking dog in the car. 

"It was bloody. Messy. 31 flavors of bottom-dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like 360-degree combat. But there was something about being there." Dean's vision faded, taking him back. Purgatory. Life without Sam. The year of running. Dean wasn't ever going to forget. 

Dean's memories of his forty years in Hell still woke him up sometimes, but Sam always knew, and knew how to kiss Dean's spine softly to ground him, but keep his hands on Dean's hip, because sometimes being wrapped up in Sam's arms felt like chains again. Now Sam would have to learn a way to deal with Dean's Purgatory nightmares. If Sam stuck around. 

Dean still had no idea. If that's what Sam wanted anymore. If Sam wanted Dean. Maybe so, maybe not. Maybe Dean would learn how to deal with new nightmares by himself. After all, it was practically a nightmare he walked into anyways. 

Dean just wanted his brother back. 

.


	92. Machiavellian (What's Up Tiger Mommy? 08x02)

Dean wasn't a pacer. Or, well, he hadn't been. By the way he couldn't stand still now, apparently that had changed. Sam was sitting in the chair he always sat at while they interviewed jail witnesses, altough Dean wasn't sitting in his. Sam was doing his best to keep his eyes on the Clem scumbag, but Dean was giving off this vibe that was making Sam on edge. Dean kept throwing this harsh Machiavellian glare at Clem. Sam, on the other hand, was attempting to actually get somewhere with the witness. He kept glancing at Dean on occasion, but the look on Dean's face worried him.

Dean in general worried him. His brother was a little off his rocker. Sometimes. Other times he was just normal, cheeseburger-loving sarcastic smartass Dean. But when he wasn't...

Purgatory would be traumatizing, Sam knew that. It was the home of all of the dead monsters, after all. But it sure had taken it's toll on Dean. The man couldn't even sit somewhere comfortable for too long without going into shock. Even laying on a bed made him restless and nervous. Dean seemed to be on edge practically all the time, but it got worse each hour. He got more and more jumpy, looked at things with that terrifying sharpness in his eyes more and more until he just snapped. If Dean got into that mode, the tiniest noise, threat, word, would set him off. Sam was just praying that they wouldn't be around civilians or small children the next time it happened. 

There did seem to be a temporary cure that helped out, though. After they'd had sex (after Dean nearly killed him first) he seemed a little better. He still wouldn't sit on the bed, and Sam hadn't managed to coax him onto it last night to sleep either. Dean had just grumbled something about it being dangerous (to sleep on a fucking bed Sam had no idea how that could be dangerous) and had just thrown a blanket down on the floor. Sam might have gone down and joined Dean on the floor, god knows Dean needed company right now. But there was no way Sam could fall asleep on the floor, and at least one of them needed to be awake enough to keep Dean from having another episode. 

In the past few hours, Dean had been slowly looking at things more confusedly and annoyed, like the way Dean still got caught off guard by his reflection or his hands (Sam still hadn't figured out the hand one yet) or by ceiling fans or lightswitches. Dean wasn't incompetent, it was more like he was too competent. He overanalyzed everything and that made him wary of everything. Including Sam. Dean still didn't understand why Sam had left the job, but Sam knew that would change with time. Hoped. Hoped that would change with time.

Sam zoned back in to the conversation, his eyes flicking from Dean to Clem. 

"Can I even acknowledge that without my lawyer here?" Smartass cons were the worst. Dean used to complain about them, say all they ever did was tamper with the job and waste precious time. Sam's brain automatically asked itself the little question that kept repeating in Sam's head anytime he remembered something about Dean. _Does he still?_

"Uh, look, I'm sure we can work out a little, uh, something-something with the locals if you just cooperate."

"What kind of something-something?" Sam was surprised Dean hadn't spoken up by now, that wasn't like him. Wasn't like the old him. 

"Leniency?" Sam felt the heat rolling off Dean in waves, and he recognized some sort of movement from Dean, but they weren't as in tune as they used to be and Sam couldn't tell what Dean was doing, especially with the kind of energy Dean was letting off. That energy was kind of similar...a little like the way the room had felt just before Dean had snapped up and tackled Sam to the ground, his knife pressed to Sam's neck. Sam still had a red line that stung everytime it got touched too roughly. Dean had never used that kind of real violence while sleeping with Sam before, and Sam had honestly just been too shocked and scared to react. 

Dean had had the look in his eye that he got when he tortured things. Sam had thought about that, trying to figure out if Purgatory or Hell had been worse for Dean. Considering the fact that Dean told him practically nothing about Purgatory, and only bits and pieces of Hell, it was hard to determine. Purgatory might have taken more of a toll on Dean's personality, but Dean talked about the place like it was a long lost lover. That kinda talk scared Sam just as much as the fire of clarity that lit up in Dean's eyes as he pinned Sam down, a wicked smile on his face that made him feel like Dean was being two places at once, half here with Sam and the other half in a forest literally adjacent to Hell.

"So, here's what I'm thinking – full immunity from all charges both past, present, and future." Sam put his head in his hand, groaning at the requests of the con. He was aware of Dean circling to this side of the table, and Sam was about to turn to Dean when he felt it, the exact same moment Clem made a strangled sound. 

Sam's head shot up in time to see Dean's tie wrapped around Clem's neck as he slammed him up against the wall. Dean pulled his knife out, slicing the air in a quick sweep up to the throat of the con. Sam suddenly went cold. 

"Hey!" Sam rapped his hand on the table. Dean didn't respond. Sam didn't have enough experience with this, he had no idea how to snap Dean out of it. "Dean. Come on."

"You feel that?" Dean's voice was terrifying. Dean was so far gone, he needed serious help. Sam had a feeling if he tried to go pry Dean off of Clem, Dean would probably kill them both. But if he didn't...Clem was probably end up dead. God, this was so illegal. You don't just hold knives to people's throats because they're being annoying. Sam needed to seriously be careful about pissing Dean off. Noise had been what set Dean off before, but that hadn't been it this time, it had been planned out, Dean had removed his tie and everything. 

The snap in, fade out was the only thing Sam had seen, this gradual turn was a lot more dangerous. Sam could tell from all the way over here that Dean wasn't seeing Clem, Dean was back in Purgatory some where, probably pinning down some monster. Sam had to get him out of this before Dean killed a civilian. Dean would never forgive himself if it got that far. Well. Probably. If Dean ever went back to not being a deadly time bomb of hard glares and sharp knives.

"Hey." Dean didn't hear him. Wherever he was, Sam's voice wasn't breaking through to him. Either that, or it was breaking through and Dean just wasn't listening. Even raising his voice could mean getting a knife wound, but Sam had to risk it. Dean was frozen in his checkmate killing stance.

"Dean!" Nothing. It must have finally dawned on Clem that Sam had zero control over his partner, either that or he finally got over the initial shock of having his life in danger, because he finally spoke.

"Pawn shop, First and Main." It was effective. And so dangerous. What was Dean _doing_? He had the information now, Dean should be backing the fuck up. Should have never been in this situation in the first place. _Dammit_ Sam needed a way to get through to Dean. That had to be something they did tonight. Sam would be careful, do something to mildly set Dean off, then figure out what he could do to reverse it. It would be dangerous as hell, for both of them, but there was a part of Sam that still believed Dean couldn't kill him, no matter how animalistic he was being. A year of forced violence would be overruled by over thirty years of drilled _watch out for Sammy_.

Besides, better Sam than a goddamned civilian. Even if the guy was a crook, he didn't deserve this. 

Sam had to try one more time. After all, they'd gotten the information they needed. Sam was standing, he'd jumped up earlier, but he still didn't dare to walk over to Dean. Not when he was like this. So he said it one more time, trying to put as much emotion and power behind the word as he could.

"Dean?" Dean straightened up and whipped the tie out from around Clem's neck. He started walking over to Sam, rolling up his tie calmly and not looking him in the eyes. 

"Come on." Sam opened the door but didn't hold it for Dean. Sam had to get them out of here, now. Dean was silent as he followed Sam, around a corner or two until they reached a secluded, empty hallway. There was a doorway at the end, not the one they took to get in to the station, but Sam had a fairly good idea he knew where it'd go. Dean didn't say anything, didn't mention the change in routes or the episode back in the interview room. Sam could hear the telltale whispers of Dean putting his tie back on, and Sam was definitely not comfortable with Dean being behind him, out of sight. Sam also thought it was pretty strange that he was walking in front, the only other time he'd done that was when he was soulless.

Sam reached the door at the end and opened it up, stepping out into the dark alleyway. The street was visible a little ways off in the distance, but it was empty save some graffiti. It was perfect. Sam took a few steps towards the street, giving Dean time to get in the alley. 

Then Sam spun around, two fists grabbing roughly onto Dean's suit jacket and slamming him up against the alley wall. There was a slight possibility Sam would get killed for this, but Dean didn't come down from his episodes as easily as walking out of a room. So it wasn't like Sam had a lot of options. Either he attempted to defuse this now, or they risked another episode in 10 minutes. 

Dean was on him in milliseconds, and if Sam hadn't already known it was coming, he probably would be on his ass on the concrete. But he anticipated it and countered Dean's swinging arm with his own forearm, ducking his head to avoid the elbow headed for his nose. They scrambled against each other for a moment before Sam managed to snag both of Dean's wrists and use his own momentum against him, continuing the swing upwards until Dean's wrists were pinned against the wall, above Dean's head. 

Dean was just about to break apart his hands and yank them down, his eyes wide with anger and fire and confusion at how he'd managed to be pinned in such a vulnerable position. Sam had fucked Dean once like this, Dean's hands pinned to soft sheets, back when Dean still didn't mind sleeping on beds. Before Dean could wrench his wrists out of Sam's grasp, before Dean went even more psycho crazy than he already was, Sam pressed his body against Dean's, pinning his back to the wall tightly.

Sam leaned in and kissed the hard line of Dean's mouth, using his free hand to put a thumb at Dean's jaw, forcing it open with a violent push. Sam slipped his tongue inside Dean's forced open mouth, sweeping it across his teeth and lips, Sam's own teeth and lips biting and kissing at Dean's. Dean struggled against him, attempting to turn his head or free his wrists or something. Sam held him steady. Dean may be a better fighter, but Sam's martial arts were good enough to land Dean on his back every time. Just like in Lion King, Sam used to tease Dean. And then Dean would tease him right back about how Sam was the girl lion. 

Dean was thoroughly pinned, and he slowly began to realize it as he struggled a little less under Sam's mouth. He was still twisting his wrists to attempt to get out, but Sam was meeting each twist with a twist of his lips against Dean's, a swirl of his tongue against Dean's tongue. Dean didn't shrink away, but he wasn't opening up to Sam anymore than Sam's thumb was forcing him too. Sam would normally never do something like this, but Dean was having an episode and there weren't a lot of known ways to help. This was basically it. 

Sam bit Dean's bottom lip hard, nearly enough to draw blood (that was for scaring the fuck out of him, a civilian Dean, really?) and Dean's body jerked under Sam's, either from pain or some sort of distorted pleasure. Sam licked across the bite, sending another shiver down Dean and eliciting a soft moan. Dean's wrists stopped struggling against Sam's hand, and his mouth opened up more, letting Sam kiss him deeper and rougher. 

He could feel the fight draining out of Dean, could feel Dean's heartbeat slowing again, the rushed adrenalized heat draining out of his body and settling back to the normal warm Dean temperature. It was still extremely odd for Sam to kiss (if you could call this a kiss it was a lot more like a sexual attack on Dean's mouth) Dean and make his heartbeat slowdown instead of speed up. It was a rough, almost bordering sadomasichism kiss. And it was making Dean calm down, go back to a regular human being. The irony was extremely odd, but it just proved how intense Purgatory had been, that a violent makeout session was a calmdown method.

Once Dean stilled entirely underneath Sam, complacent and willing, like cookie dough underneath Sam's hands, Sam finally loosened up his grip on Dean's wrists. Now they were loosely held above Dean's head, Sam paying more attention to Dean's mouth now, and the way their bodies were lined up. Sam fought the urge to grind against Dean's hips, especially with the warm bulge he could feel pressed against his inner thigh. They didn't have time right now, not to mention that they still weren't on the best of terms. Amelia was still fresh on Sam's mind, and it hurt. 

Just the thought of her, her kinky brunette hair, should've made Sam pull away and cringe. As much as she'd meant to Sam...this was Dean. The kiss did slow down a bit, especially since Dean was no longer trying to escape him so diligently. Dean was kissing Sam back now so thoroughly, it would be difficult to break away. There was probably never going to be a day that Sam stopped being captivated but the sweet bowshaped lips pressed against his, followed by the wet tongue and careful teeth. Sam smothered Dean's bottom lip one more time, pinning it between his own and sucking at it, reveling how Dean shook under him. It always gave Sam a thrill to watch how his big brother fell apart for him.

Then Sam pulled off, Dean's lip making a pop as it escaped Sam's mouth. Sam stepped back a foot, his hands slowly bringing Dean's arms down, letting go once they were back by Dean's sides. Dean's eyes stayed closed, his head tilted back against the wall and lips parted, breathing heavily as Sam looked on. Dean looked spent, entirely wrecked just from a kiss. It was an intense kiss, yeah, but Dean looked like he'd just spent the past three hours in bed, nonstop. It was quite the scene to look at, his spiked hair disheveled and his mouth red and swollen, especially puffy and wet where Sam had bit him so hard. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were squeezed tight. 

When Dean finally opened his eyes and the green landed on Sam's, the Purgatory clarity was gone. Dean no longer looked like he needed to rip someone's throat out. If Dean ever admitted to anything in the world, he might've thanked Sam for pulling him off the ledge of insanity, but Dean just swallowed and looked at him. Sam returned the gaze for a moment before he tilted his head towards the street.

"C'mon, we gotta get going. Pawn shop to get to." Sam was half thinking that Dean was going to say some snide remark like _yeah, thanks to me_ , but he didn't. Sam knew Dean knew what happened, he had known after he'd had sex with Sam. (On the floor, really?) So he also knew that he had threatened some guy's life and broken every code in the book about proper federal etiquette. Or etiquette as a human in general, that whole don't go around stabbing people with knives thing that Dean somehow had forgotten in his year of isolation. 

Dean didn't look particularly sorry or regretful about what he did, but he didn't look proud either. Just...spent. Like he wasn't even thinking about how he just nearly killed a man. Sam sighed to himself and Dean pushed off of the wall, running his hand over his face before taking a few steps towards the street. He paused and turned his head, and seeing Sam right behind his shoulder, took off again, a faint smile playing at the corner of his bruised mouth. 


	93. Extrinsic (Heartache  08x03)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be triggers here too, brief mention of suicidal thoughts that I originally read in a scene analysis that has been lost in the depths of tumblr. However there is a visual here: http://samwinchesterappreciation.tumblr.com/post/58704966875/dearest-betsy-so-tired-of-it-all

Dean was getting better. He was adjusting to his old life again, the 30+ years of being "normal" (which by normal Dean did not mean normal, but just not having the urge to murder everything he sees) slowly overruling the 1 year of non-stop killing machine. Beds were even becoming less threatening. Which was saying a lot, because the squishiness was seriously a major disadvantage, how had they never thought of that before?

He and Sam were sleeping in the same bed, but on opposite sides. Or in different beds as close to each other as the gap between the beds would allow. Dean was coming to terms (not really) a little with the fact that Sam actually thought he was dead. There was a big change once you thought it was entirely permanent, that's when you tried to move on. And Sam had been quite convinced that Dean would be gone forever. Which was a fair enough excuse for dating someone else. Lots of widows remarried because of their dead husbands, and it was only because they were trying to make a life for themselves again. Dean (mostly) understood that. Although it was fucking not an excuse for quitting the fucking job. And letting people fucking die. But getting a girlfriend while Dean was "dead' wasn't entirely outrageous. It just...hurt. But Dean was doing okay, pretending she didn't exist, pretending that whole year apart hadn't existed, until stupid stuff kept happening.

Like checking his email and finding out Sam was _applying to fucking college_. That was a bitch slap to the face. Talk about LOW. It was the one part of Dean's life he actually regretted a bit, the way he'd acted while Sam was at Stanford. That was a lot of blood spilt. His own definitely included. He had a ton of scars from that time period of his life.

Back like a year and a half ago, they'd stayed up one night in bed, the bedside lamp on and flooding a yellow haze over their naked bodies. Sam had traced over every inch of Dean's skin with soft fingertips, stopping at every white line and brown dot. He named off the causes of every scar he knew, which were a ton of them, and insisted on knowing the stories for the rest. Dean had been hesitant at first, especially with a few of the worse ones, like the white line on his chin or the scattered sutures against the back of his right thigh. Some of the stories were embarrassingly reckless, and a story or two made Sam tear up, especially when he realized the reason for them was his absence. 

It had been one of Dean's favourite memories, and he had thought about it recently, standing naked in front of the mirror and looking at all of the ones Sam hadn't gotten to see yet. Now it got to be like that night again, with all the new scars covering Dean's body. He traced over them lightly in the mirror, wincing at a few more recent ones, and imagining what it'd feel like to have Sam's gentle fingers here instead. But there was a part of Dean that wondered if that wouldn't happen this time around. Maybe Sam didn't care anymore. What were a few white lines and permanently purple bruises to Sam?

Maybe Sam didn't feel the same about Dean anymore. Dean obviously still did, just Sam's lips on his broke the mental connection between him and Purgatory. That kiss was...something else. Dean had been in an improving mood ever since. Although it kept getting majorly dampened by things like Crowley sucking and Kevin disappearing and Sam wanting to go to college. What else was new?

Well, there was one new development Dean had not been expecting. They'd been sitting in the minigod's hall of fame and reading letters when Sam hinted at it. Dean hadn't seen it coming, and he was pretty sure it had been unintentional on Sam's part. Sam had been holding the letters, reading bits aloud until he said something that made him suddenly freeze.

"Dearest Betsy, so tired of it all." 

Dean blinked and raised his eyebrows, looking up from his letter. He met Sam's eyes, hopeful for just a moment that it was Dean's imagination. Sam's face though, said otherwise. Dean stared at his brother, decoding his expression as quickly as possible. Sam looked like he was thrown a year in the past, his eyes dark and heavy and full of hurt and shame and this immense memory of pain. Dean wasn't sure what to think, what had suddenly triggered this emotional despair from Sam as they silently looked at each other. 

_Dear Betsy._ Then it dawned on Dean. That was the name of the famous suicide advice column. Sam's expression changed, watching as the recognition shone through Dean's eyes. Sam held his gaze, his eyebrows furrowed in a deep look. Sam was looking straight at Dean, but he was also staring straight into the past. Dean was inwardly scolding the hell out of himself, how had he not seen it earlier? Probably because Sam was stubborn and really good at hiding things, like Stanford acceptance letters and the fact that he considered (tried?) committing suicide while his brother was gone.

Dean wanted to leap out of his chair and run to Sammy's side, pull his baby boy into his arms and rock him until Sam never wanted to leave this world again. But just because that was what Dean wanted didn't mean it was what Sam wanted. And Sam came first. So Dean stayed in his seat, having to mentally remind himself to breathe. Sam was here, he was okay, he didn't go through with it, he couldn't go through with it, and Dean was sending up a prayer of thanks before he remembered that angels are dicks and it was Sam who must have stopped himself from doing it. From...  

Dean's hand was on Sam's before he thought about putting it there, or what Sam might think. Sam didn't flinch away though, just sighed and looked down at Dean's thumb rubbing back and forth against the back of Sam's fist. Dean fully believed in comfort through touch, and it was the best way for him to reach Sam. And it meant no soppy confusing words that got misinterpreted and engrained. Touches meant love, and it was as simple as that. Even just a pat on the shoulder was a show of affection, a 1% little piece of love that humans have inside them and don't realize or recognize, just show through touch. And it felt so good, to be connected to Sam like this again. Yeah, sleeping with Sam had been amazing, and it had been about love, but it was also about a shit ton of other things at the same time. The same with the kiss. But this. Dean's hand resting on Sam's had no alternative motives or extrinsic reasons. It was just them.

For a moment or two, the year apart was gone, they were the same they had always been, one unit and soul, sharing two bodies that belonged entwined. Dean still could barely process it, couldn't fully comprehend that he could've come back to no brother at all. Jesus, he'd rather Sam have left the job and got married than to have ended his life. Dean wanted to ask Sam, wanted to know how and why and what stopped it and just _hold him_ but the voice inside his head told him it wasn't his place. You don't spend a year apart living very separate, different lives, then suddenly instantly go back to being what you were. Time. Sam just needed time.

So when Sam pulled back his hand and moved his way over to the computer to research more, Dean let him go. Didn't say anything, no inquiring about emotions or what happened. Then again, denial was still Dean's specialty. If Sam didn't come to him about it by tonight, Dean might ask. But Sam at least deserved the opportunity to come to Dean on his own.

Dean's guess had been right. Sam mentioned it again later, when they were talking about Brick. Dean almost didn't pick up on it, but he was paying extra attention, and the look Sam gave him was unmistakable.

“You think Brick thought maybe he’d burn to nothing when he crashed that car?” Sam turned his head to Dean, and Dean met his gaze, responding automatically before he realized the gravity of what Sam had said.

"Yeah, but he didn't, which brings us here." Dean moved to open the door handle when he paused, turning back to Sam. Sam had stopped too, sitting in the passenger seat and just looking at Dean. Dean wanted to ask, and Sam was giving him that look again. Maybe Sam would say something first. Dean stared at Sam for a good fifteen seconds before his eyes shifted down. He had to say something.

"Sam?" Dean was trying to keep the concerned tone out of his voice but it still shone through. Sam sighed, looking at his hands as he spoke. 

"The dog. I. I really didn't mean to hit it. And I wouldn't have. If...if I hadn't been going so fast." Sam whispered the last part, his fingers clenching together. It made way more sense now. Sam wasn't the type to hit a dog, and he was a ridiculously safe driver, not to mention that he'd probably would've seen the dog coming and been able to dodge it if he had been driving like he normally did. But since the dog appeared as Sam was on his way out...Sam's driving skills were impaired and he hit it. Dean had been wondering about how Sam had managed to hit a dog. Well, he certainly got it now. Dean had to mentally focus on taking deep breaths, keeping to his side of the car and giving Sam the space he needed to talk.

"It wasn't the first time. The first time I chickened out because one of your songs came on the radio and I thought it was some sort of sign...then the next time I just kept imagining, of all things, what you would say if I gave your car a disgraceful death and I hit the brakes before I slid off the road. I know it was stupid, but." Sam froze, chewing the inside of his cheek. Dean was pretty sure he was holding his breath and would've passed out by now if it weren't for his underwater training.

"I just. You were gone, and what was I supposed to do? I figured I might as well go out in the car...because the car was you. And us. But I couldn't take the damn dog's life too, so I took it to a vet. And I would've left it there but I couldn't. So I guess in a way the dog saved my life. Because then I had reason again, some sort of purpose, something else to live for." Sam looked up at Dean again, his eyes sad and searching, and Dean did his very best not to jump out of the car and fleet to Sam's side. He cleared his throat instead, tearing his eyes away from the painful gaze of his brother.

"Yeah, I uh. I almost did the same when you were 23. I almost took Baby off the end of the nearest cliff, but. Sam. I'm really glad I didn't. and....I'm glad you didn't too. And uh, well. Thanks for looking out for the car." _And you, thanks for taking care of my baby boy when I wasn't here too, Sammy, if you had let yourself go like that I'd have been the first to join you when I got topside._

Sam just nodded, opening his door and getting out of the car. Dean swallowed back the urge to talk about it more, they had a job to do. After, he promised himself. 

 

Dean did a lot of thinking as he almost got his heart ripped out of his chest. Well, first, at how damn ironic it was because his heart had actually just been ripped out of his chest recently. Maybe not quite as literally...but still. But it wasn't until afterwards, driving the Impala with Sammy at his side again that it hit him. This was it. This was the solution to his Purgatory issues. Hunting down monsters was just as satisfying now as chopping off a couple of heads. Sure, it wasn't quite as dangerous or exciting, but Dean felt _alive_. 

"Wow. Back in business. Got the win. Admit it – feels good, huh?" Dean turned to Sam with a smile before he turned back to the road. "You know, I was thinking about what Randa said about, uh, you know, what it feels like to be a warrior. I get it, man, I do."

"I know. I know you do." Sam paused before he delivered the next words like they were a blow to Dean's jaw. "I don't. Not anymore. Hell, maybe I never did."

"Come on, Sam, don't ruin my buzz, would you?" Dean could handle Sam bitching about now, and the past year, but his whole "I never did" thing was basically dissing their entire lives, Dean's entire life.

"Dean, listen, when this is over – when we close up shop on Kevin and the tablet – I'm done. I mean that." No. No no nope.

"No, you don't." Dean was digging himself a pit of denial so deep that he didn't believe Sam's own _words_.

"Dean, the year that I took off, I had something I've never had. A normal life. I mean, I got to see what that felt like. I want that. I had that." So apparently Dean wasn't good enough for him. Sam wanted something he never got to have until Dean was dead, so Sam practically just wanted Dean dead again. Right? Wasn't that what he was saying? But Dean didn't give up that easy. Sam was pissed at him, wanted his apple pie life Dean had thought Sam had gotten over, and Dean stood in the way. Well, if they spent the two years together before they spent their year apart, then all they needed was time, right? Then the old habits would come back and Sam would stop trying to leave him all the goddamned time. Sam didn't mean it like he meant, he just thought he meant it. Dean could fix this though, he could fix them. He had to. He was nothing without Sam.

"I think that's just how you feel right now." Sam just turned his head away from Dean and Dean sighed, strumming the steering wheel. He had a lot of work to do.


	94. Magnified (Bitten  08x04)

Sam didn't exactly tense at the words, but he did shoot Dean a glance. Dean was staring at the screen too intently, pretending he didn't see Sam looking. Sam turned back to the video playing on the computer, pretending it didn't matter. It shouldn't, after all. Things weren't easy like they were before, Dean didn't understand Sam, how badly he didn't want a life not soaked in blood anymore. 

"Are you getting a workplace romance vibe from those two?" At least the kids were observant. There was a pretty palpable tension between him and Dean. Probably from the fact that their bodies still fit together perfectly, that the automatic response to everything was each other. It made the new outlooks on life not fit quite into the picture. Sam couldn't take losing his Dean one more time, he was 100% sure he'd lose all his sanity too, next time. And no dog could pull him out of a rut that potentially deep. The only way to keep from losing Dean was to quit hunting. It was that simple. 

But hunting was Dean's life, and had been magnified even more during their year apart, whereas Sam's had faded. They were at opposite sides if the spectrum with no desire to compromise. Although Dean was slowly getting over his freak Purgatory spazzes. And Sam was actually beginning to hunt without complaining. So maybe they were compromising. Just, without admitting it. Nothing like good old-fashioned Winchester pride.

 _Workplace romance._ It hadn't been romantic between them since forever. Well, Dean tried to say things sometimes, but Sam just shot him down. So yeah, there really hadn't been romance. There had been a tapering off of physical contact too, starting off with the sex they had the first night, then the heated kiss the next day, then since then, two more brief kisses to calm Dean down. They never talked about it, never mentioned the touches or the recent lack of them. It'd been a week since they'd touched each other like that, both of them distracting themselves with the job or something else, anything besides the question no one wanted to answer. Sam felt like he'd been slammed back to the beginning, to being twenty-three and wildly afraid of what to tell Dean. They just kept dancing around each other, like they hadn't spent eight months or so as boyfriends, and in a committed-but-unofficial relationship for a couple years before that. 

It seemed like anytime someone died and came back, they had to start all over. It was hell. When Dean got back from hell, they were wary around each other, no longer sharing the kisses and touches from just before Dean left. When Sam got back from hell, his soulless self spent nearly all his time trying to reseduce Dean, who seemingly had no interest in him. That was understandable though, between Lisa and the whole soul thing. And now, now that Dean was back from Purgatory, it was restart all over again.

 **Time is the greatest distance between two places.** All of those years they spent apart changed them. So they had to relearn each other. This time was just the hardest because the year apart sent them spiraling so far apart from each other, in addition to the fact that they had been boyfriends before Purgatory. So they still had the remnants and the memories of being together, while having to face the certainty and realism of how far apart they were now. 

It sucked.

But if time had managed to ruin them, maybe it could heal them too. They were working like a team on this case, which had been really nice. Even now, watching the tape, they were sitting comfortably close, their arms against each other lightly. Sam's knee was pressed to Dean's, but his foot wasn't wrapped around Dean's ankle like it wanted to so badly. Dean had made a conscious effort not to look at Sam this entire time, Sam could see the muscle in Dean's jaw working, the tension in his face as he kept his head turned forward. At times like these it just felt silly, all the fighting and the "you don't understand who I am anymore."

What Sam was the most afraid of though, was this thought and possibility he couldn't get out of his head. What if...What if Dean was in love with the old Sam? The one that had died in that lab room along with Dean. That Sam was gone, and while Dean had loved it so, maybe Dean would get to know this new side of Sam and decide he didn't love him anymore.

After all, Dean didn't want to settle down. Sam had a home with Amelia, but Dean's home was the open road. The Impala. Sam wanted more than that. He wanted a _life_ that didn't include crazy teenagers turning into werewolves.

"I think you were right about the whole 'workplace romance' thing. They just spent the whole time talking about being apart for a year." Sam didn't glance at Dean this time, just clenched his jaw and looked at the screen. That diner had been where Dean had finally said it, just insisted that Sam tell him everything. Sam didn't tell him everything. He told him a few events here and there, general summaries. And he left Amelia out of it as much as possible. Then Sam had pestered Dean with questions, inquiring as much about Purgatory as he could, both from the want to know and the need to have the conversation turned on Dean.

If they had been at any stage in their lives besides the "adjusting" one, Dean would've made some snarky comment about the workplace romance thing, or maybe said something low and dirty and sexual, making Sam suddenly more interested in Dean's lips and his body than the home video they were watching. The old Dean would have made a comment about that too, maybe some crack at how he and Sam should make a "home video" sometime. Sam could picture it in his head, the raised eyebrow and one sided grin on Dean's face as he'd say it, the playful punch from Sam's part then Dean leaning over and tilting his head, pushing his lips against Sam's. They'd get lost in each other, making out like two teenagers until some loud noise or crazy words from the video snapped them out of their play, brought them back to work as they slided closer to each other in their seats, Dean's hand wrapping around Sam's shoulder and teasingly playing with the hem of his sleeve. 

But it didn't happen. How could it, when Sam had spent so much time shutting Dean out lately? He had reasons for doing it, he was terrified. Terrified Dean wouldn't love him after all of the changes he had gone through. Dean wanted them to just jump back into what they used to had, but Sam wasn't the same person anymore. And he couldn't just pretend he was, Sam couldn't lie to Dean like that. Dean deserved the truth. Or, well, at least as much of it as Sam dared to give him.


	95. Digressing (Blood Brother  08x05)

The phone rang a couple of times before it finally connected. Sam's voice came out casual and familiar, quite unlike the situation Dean was in right now.

"Hey."

"Okay, what?" Dean wasn't trying to sound cross, although he was a little bit irked and mostly extremely busy.

"What?" Sam was playing stupid and Dean didn't have timmee for this. He'd decided to be the nice brother and actually call Sam back so Sam didn't sit there fretting about him. If Sam was worried at all. Hell, lately Sam probably was kicking back and drinking beer, celebrating Dean's absence. Although, when Dean had left to come here, Sam had protested a ton. Dean had been surprised, it was the most engagement in Dean's life that Sam had shown for weeks.

"Why did you call me?" Dean spoke slowly and quietly, basically trying not to get himself killed. 

"Why are you whispering?" Sam mimicked Dean's speed, totally mocking him. Dean pressed his lips in annoyance. But he was used to Sam's sass so he just brushed it off.

"It's kind of hard to explain right now, but I'm sort of in the middle of cleaning out a vampire's nest, and it's sort of gone a little sideways on me."

"What?!" Sam practically shrieked and Dean had to take the phone away from his ear and hold it against his chest. For two reasons, actualy. One being so that Sam's yelling didn't alert every damn vampire in this place to kill him, and the second being to fight the urge to yell back. "Are you an idiot, Dean? You know better than to go into a vamp nest alone."

"I'm not alone, damn it. All right? I'm not alone." Besides, Dean had gone into a vamp nest alone plenty of times before. Dean didn't always have the luxury of backup. But whatever, he'd take Sam's worrying little scolding session with a grain of salt. The conversation was definitely digressing, and spending way more time off subject than on. "I've got backup – guy who's been tracking the nest for a while."

"What guy? Garth?" If Dean wasn't distracted attempting not to get killed, he'd probably laugh at the jealous rage in Sam's voice. Or at least point out that he was sounding a lot more like a jealous girlfriend than a brother. But as it was, this was dangerous as hell. Dean had never spoken on the phone with someone in the middle of a hunt, let alone a dangerous one that he needed to be stealthy for. Goodness, Sam didn't appreciate him enough.

"What? No. You don't know him. He's a friend." Dean really should get back on topic. As nice as it was to see that Sam was concerned about him (Dean was actually pretty surprised that Sam was this worried), Dean had a to do list. And yeah, so he'd called Sam to let him know he was okay. And maybe to hear Sam's voice. But it wasn't Dean's fault he needed that, he'd gone for a really long time without the sweet low talking of his little brother. Even though he was getting yelled at, the check-in with Sam was nice.

"A friend? Dean, you don't have any – all your friends are dead." Aw, wasn't that cute, Sammy thought he knew everything about Dean. Sam had no idea. Besides, this was definitely not the best time to have an argument about Dean's life outside of Sam. 

"That's not what I called to talk about!" Dean held the phone to his chest again, knowing Sam was going to rebuttle his words with yelling of some sort. For a moment or two, Dean felt strangely normal. Not normal as in like himself, but like some nine to five guy who was in an argument with his high maintenance wife on the phone. Maybe it was the fact that Sam had it in his mind that Dean called him to talk about his friends, or his feelings, or whatever bullshit people discussed over the phone. 

Dean started texting his coordinates out to Sam as Sam started ranting. Sam wasn't on speaker phone but Dean could hear his yelling clearly anyways. Sam was sooo going to get him killed. 

"I get the separate-lives thing, but this is a hunting thing, and we need to find that line –" Jealous girlfriend holy shit that is exactly how Sam was acting. Besides, "we need to find that line?" That sounded like goddamn couple therapy. Dean considered for a moment commenting like he had once before, " _Can we skip the couples therapy, Sam?_ " But that was sure to start another chain of yelling, about how "don't even get me started, Dean" and all sorts of scolding and bitching and excuses and yeah, they really weren't much of a couple anymore. Even though that's not what Sam was acting like right now. Sam was over here being the girliest girl of the century, spurting off some ridiculousness about separate-lives. And in a loud enough manner he probably called every vamp in the next twenty miles to Dean's location.

"Oh, my God, stop talking." Wow, that felt way awesomer than it should have. Who knows how long Dean has been dying to tell Sam that. Sam was actually so surprised, he stopped yelling. For a few seconds at least. "I texted you my 20."

"Yeah, I got it. Look, I'm on my way." Dean set the phone down on the sideboard, letting Sam ramble on while Dean stole to the shadows. Who knew Sam's talkativeness would come in handy one day. "And, listen, if you handle it, great. I'll buy your friend the first round. But, Dean, listen to me. It – Dean? Dean, are you there? Dean." Sam sounded major pissed. If Dean made it out of here alive, he was screwed nine ways to Sunday. Well, except for the type of screwed that he'd like to be. "Dean. You kidding me?"

A vamp walked up to the sideboard, looking curiously at the phone. Dean stepped out of the shadows and swung his machete, slicing off the vamp's head and watching it fly, the body crumpling to the ground. Dean bent down, scooping up his phone from were the vampire dropped it. The screen was shattered.

"Oh, man, come on." Deuschbag vampire. Dean wasn't done with his civilianistic conversation with Sam. Not to mention that he hated spending money on phones, and now this one was useless. And Sam was going to be even _more_ pissed when he thought Dean hung up on him, and that was before he even knew about Benny. God, this was not ending well. Although now at least Dean knew Sam cared. In his own sort of screaming yelling sort of way. It had been a while since Dean felt genuinely cared about, and he wouldn't lie, it was a nice feeling. To know Sam worried about him, thought about him. Because god knows Sam was all Dean ever worried or though about.

~*~*~*~*~

Sam hung up, Dean's end of the line going dead, and threw his phone to the floor.

"Damn it!" Dean just thought he was so superior now, diving into a vamps nest headfirst just because he'd had an extra year of fighting? There was _nothing_ okay about that. When Dean had gone off earlier, Sam had assumed it was to see some girl or something. Which, yeah, was annoying, but they could talk about it and Sam could deal. But apparently it wasn't a girl, it was some stupid hunt that Dean thought he could do on his own. Or with this mysterious guy friend Dean had. Somehow that was worse. But not even the most upsetting part of it all. It was when Dean didn't call, didn't check-in with Sam. And then Sam started getting worried. And then pissed, because Sam shouldn't be worried about Dean just because he hasn't heard from him for a few hours. 

Once Sam was on the road, speeding towards Dean's stupid coordinates on his stupid hunt, he fished out his phone to dial another one of Dean's numbers. What if Dean got himself killed? The very last thing he said to Sam would be "oh my god shut up i texted you my 20." How much did that suck.

" _This is Dean's other, other –_ "

Sam hung up and dropped the phone to the floor of the car. God, how could Dean do this to him? Sam pressed down the Impala's pedal, needing to get to Dean _now._ The speedometer clicked up from eighty miles an hour to ninety.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean stepped off the boat, his eyes on Sam although he was focusing a lot on making sure he stood upright. Dean didn't spend much time on boats, like ever, so he wasn't the best with them. They were a hell of a lot better than planes, but nowhere near as comfortable as a stretch of pavement under Baby's tires. Sam glanced down Dean's body once, in a way that could be sexual if Sam's jaw wasn't flexed and his eyes weren't steel and pissed, and if it wasn't just a quick scan for injuries. Then Sam looked past Dean, his eyes locking on Benny. Benny stepped up onto the dock beside Dean. Dean had not anticipated ever having to have this moment, where Sam met Benny. And he had some very valid reasons for them not to meet. 

"I'm Benny." Benny stuck out his hand, and Dean was suddenly reminded of the last time this had happened, but with Cas. Sam had been the one with his hand out then, though. For a split second Dean worried Sam might not take it. Then his gigantore palm lined up with Benny's, grabbing it cordially. Dean had that strange sense of "normal" again, like he was introducing a new friend to his parents. Or introducing a coworker to the jealous-overprotective-girlfriend that Sam was being right now.

"Heard a lot about you, Sam." Dean was going to ignore what that comment was saying. So yeah, maybe Dean talked about Sam sometimes. Or all the time. But for a year, Dean didn't have anything of Sam except memories and the sweet way the syllable rolled off his tongue. So he'd ended up talking about his brother a lot. Sam had probably done just the opposite, tucking Dean's memory away in a box in the back of his mind and done anything he could to forget him. See, that was why they kept fighting. Sam had stupid ways of dealing with pain that caused him to be hurt even more. And hurt Dean in the process.

Sam eyes locked on Dean's, and Dean felt a spark inside his chest. It wasn't as much the affectionate spark as it was just a sharp reminder of the power of this thing between him and Sam. When their eyes met, Dean instantly knew everything Sam saw, he could read it as easily as reading a book of lore. Hell, easier. Those books of lore had a lot of Latin in them. 

Dean's eyes stayed on Sam's, but he knew Sam was reaching down and uncovering his knife, his fingers posed and ready on the handle. Dean held Sam's gaze, portraying as much as he could without speaking. How Benny was one of the good guys, Dean's friend, and absolutely not a threat at all. Then Dean slightly shook his head, a confirmation to Sam to let go of his knife. The rebel-that-Sam-was normally meant some kind of fight back, but Sam just loosened his grip, obeying instantly. Not without a flash of confusion and anger. 

Benny let go of Sam's hand and Dean was suddenly reminded the vampire was there. He'd been so focused on Sam, he had forgotten about what that might've looked like to Benny. But if anyone would understand the silent conversations, it would be Benny. He was ridiculously intuitive. Too intuitive, if you ask Dean. It had lead to quite a few interesting conversations down in Purgatory. 

Like the fourth or fifth night after Dean and Benny had met, when Dean had started talking about Sam. He'd just started talking about why he was down here, mentioning that he was a hunter who partnered with his brother. Then of course, going on to talk about Sam for quite some time. Dean had a habit of that, like those parents who brag about their A honour roll kids too much. People who knew Dean were used to it, and Benny was sure to come accustomed to the countless Sam stories.

It only took two days of talking about Sam (and fighting of course) before Benny asked if he and Sam were in a relationship. Dean had stabbed his scythe through a wolf-dog thing and shouted over his shoulder that Sam was his brother. A.k.a. effectively avoiding the question. Or so he thought. He heard a animalistic cry then the telltale sound of a head hitting the ground before Benny shouted back "that's not what I asked." Dean had remained silent for the rest of the wolf pack, debating what to tell Benny. He was a vampire, which automatically meant lower morals, but he was also human at one point. And he used to live in a time period where even being gay was considered absolute blasphemy. So Dean was pretty sure incest didn't even register anywhere near the acceptable chart. 

Dean had eventually decided to tell Benny that he and Sam were closer than most siblings. Although that had just earned him a look. Dean never outright told Benny that he and Sam were boyfriends, but from that point on Benny talked about Sam like he was. Even called him that a few times. Dean had ignored all of those comments, but he didn't dispute them either. It wasn't like his and Sam's love life were the stories he told anyways. No, he told a lot more about the hunts they'd been on, the stunts Sam had pulled as a teen. The wicked smarts he had, how he was a walking nerd encyclopedia. And after they found Cas, Cas had asked Dean if he was okay, how he was holding up without Sam. And Benny had given him this amused look. 

Although that whole thing with finding Cas had gotten complicated, since Benny had been confused on whether Cas was Dean's boyfriend, or if Sam was, and what the hell was going on with Dean anyways. But that was a story for another time.

Dean had been having Purgatory flashbacks again, although he thought he had gotten over them for a while. Apparently though, they were as strong as ever. And featuring Cas, lately. Which was a major major sucky point that made Dean's heart feel like it was getting ripped out of his chest.

"I can see you two have a lot to talk about." Benny's voice snapped Dean out of his memory recall. His voice was kind, but Sam bristled all the same. Then the moment was gone as Benny clapped a hand on Dean's arm, scooped to pick up his bag, and stepped between them to walk away. Dean appreciated Benny, he did, but Sam had this murderous look in his eye. There was no way Dean was just going to explain Benny's whole story to Sam when Sam was this pissy and judgemental.

Their eyes were on each other again, and they stood frozen like that for a while. Eventually, Sam shifted his weight and spoke.

"Dean, what the hell-"

"Where'd you park the car?"

"What?" Sam looked at Dean with his mouth open.

"The car? Where's it at?" Dean knew he was kinda being a dick, but he'd taken enough yelling from Sam today, and there was no way Sam was going to understand about Benny. Hell, pre-quitting Sam would barely understand, now he'd just hate Dean for it.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Sam narrowed his eyes and pursued his lips, just as hurt as he was pissed and aware he couldn't hide that from Dean.

"Yeah, well. It's been said." Dean took off in the direction of where he remember the concrete to be, not waiting to see if Sam followed. He could find the damn car himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I had it finished two days ago, but my computer killed it. Twice. I was pretty pissed, so the third version ended up being a lot less detailed and a lot more rushed. My apologies, I just couldn't write this chapter a fourth time. So yeah. Thanks for reading anyways! xx


	96. Marginally (Southern Comfort  08x06)

Dean and Garth were sitting at the table, researching, and Garth was attempting at acting like Bobby again and Dean was already pissed enough anyways he didn't need Garth trampling all over the man's memory. Dean had just snapped at Garth for using Idjits, the bastard had no right, but Garth seemed mostly unhazed, opening up his mouth again to spill out more conversation that was sure to annoy Dean.

"N-none of my business, but... this have anything to do with you and... Sam?" Dean didn't look up from his laptop research, his eyebrows furrowed as he responded marginally sassily.

"No, you had it right. It's none of your business." Dean was not about to talk about his personal life (Sam wasn't really his love life anymore, it was closer to hate life than love lately) with Garth of all people.

"Okay. It just seems that you guys are a little tense around each other." That was an understatement. And absolutely none of Garth's business. Besides, Dean had been doing his best to ignore the fact that Sam hated him. Actually, Dean had been avoiding the entire thought of Sam or anything having to do with his pissed off, close-minded brother. And Garth bringing Sam up was definitely not helping. Even though everything reminded him of Sam anyways, there wasn't much of a point of avoiding the topic. Still, he was not talking about this out loud.

"We're fine." Dean picked up his beer and gave Garth the bitchiest smile he could manage, especially since he knew Garth wouldn't pick up on how much of a dick he was being. Bobby would have smacked Dean upside the head by now, but Garth just nodded vaguely. Dean was done with this topic now. "Can we get back to work?"

"Yeah." Garth was so clueless, Dean had no idea how he wasn't shredded yet.

"Okay." Dean took a swig of his beer, wishing the alcohol was as strong as it was the last time they'd worked a case with Garth. Except that case, Dean and Sam had been dating. And they'd hate that drunken makeout session in the middle of the case that had nearly gotten them both thrown in jail. And man, they had had one hell of a busy night after Garth left. Lots of pent up frustration from not being able to touch around Garth without him wagging an eyebrow. Dean sighed at the memory, downing back a little more beer than was probably a good idea. 

"All right. Just, uh – just letting you know that I'm here for you, for anything." Dean tilted his head in acknowledgement, looking back to the computer screen. Hopefully Garth would shut up now. "I know sometimes Bobby, he would –"

The last straw broke so quickly Dean was slamming down his beer before Garth got out another word. Between the Bobby imitations and the bringing up Sam and the stupid memories and then Garth trying to be the figure Bobby was in Dean's life, it was all just too much all at once. 

"You're not Bobby! Okay? You're never gonna be Bobby, so stop!" Garth looked like Dean had smacked him. Dean had thought about it, but he wouldn't. Yelling was just as efficient when it came to Garth. Probably more efficient.

"Bobby belonged to all of us, Dean – not just you and Sam." Dean looked up, the words sinking in. There were tears in Garth's eyes, but he actually looked genuinely pissed too. Actually upset. "Now, I'm just taking what he showed me and trying do something with it. That's all!"

The final words were what got Dean. Okay, Dean was being a dick. Garth didn't deserve Dean's wrath just because Dean was pissed at Sam and because he was still not over losing Bobby. Dean spoke again, softly this time.

"Why don't you see if you can find something in that bourbon-drenched book of his so we can get the hell out of Dixie, all right?" Garth's tension left his shoulders and he instantly bounced back, suddenly being okay.

"Yeah. I'm on it." 

Dean remembered a day he used to bounce back like that. Or at least, he used to pretend he could bounce back like that. What Dean would give for those days again.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam climbed out of Garth's car, feeling too tall and awkward and everything the Impala had never made him feel. That car had been in Sam's life since the second he was born, and it'd grown up with him too. It was Dean's car, just like it had once been Dad's car. Sam had never thought of it as his, just as Dean's. But Sam still associated it to his life, to the never ending road trip with his brother. Sam was quietly reminiscing as they walked towards the steps, then Garth's voice suddenly spoke up, making Sam turn his head to look at the (crazy) hunter.

"Hey, uh, Sam. If you ever need to talk, I just want to let you know that I'm here." Sam fought back the urge to huff a laugh, instead nodding slightly in Garth's direction. The guy tried, at least. He really did. Maybe a little too hard. 

"About anything – you know, life, uh, Dean, you." Oh. So that's what this was about. The way Garth said "Dean, you" it was clear that's why he'd mentioned anything in the first place. Sam definitely was not in the mood to talk about Dean. Dean, who Sam had finally begun to let in again when he found out Dean had been lying to him, all over again. And about the worst kind of thing too, something huge that was now separated between them like a huge wedge. A vampire. God, as a friend. And Dean had mentioned absolutely nothing. Not until he was three states over and knee deep in danger. Even then, Dean hadn't bothered to explain anything, just that he was indebted to the monster and thought he was some kind of good guy.

Sam couldn't help but wonder if there had been anything else there, too. Dean and Cas obviously were more than friends at one point (Sam was kept pretty in the dark about when that point started an ended. If it ever did) but who knows, maybe Benny was more than just a friend to Dean, too. All evidence pointed to the just friends thing, but Sam wondered anyways. There wasn't anyone who met Dean and didn't think he was wonderful and charming and attractive. The straightest of men and most uninterested of girls still looked appreciatively at Dean, falling even harder the second he opened his pretty mouth and his funny, caring personality shown through. Sam could only imagine what a year alone with Dean would be like, especially when Dean was in the beautiful grace of his hunting mode that was exhilaratingly supernatural in itself. It was near impossible that Benny wasn't at least a little in love with Dean. Dean may not return the feeling, but that didn't mean Benny might. 

"I'm okay. Thanks." Sam smiled cordially, but Garth continued anyways, walking up the library steps.

"I mean, it just seems like you and Dean are talking but nobody's listening to each other." Sam stopped, letting Garth continue his story as he walked up. "I had this cousin once – well, he's gone now – but his name was Frank. Frank and I used to build.."

Sam stayed at the bottom of the steps, his mind swirling. _Nobody's listening..._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam was worried, worried sick again about Dean and god, if something happened to him, Sam was pretty sure the last thing he said had been something mean and he wasn't going to lose Dean like this, not when they were fighting and pissed at each other Sam couldn't do it. He'd been attempting at pretending, for Garth's sake at least, that this thing between him and Dean was no big deal. But now that he was hyperventilating, Sam didn't even have the energy to spare to tell Garth to stop worrying about Sam's worrying.

Sam burst open the door of the motel, his phone to his ear and one of Dean's numbers ringing. Sam heard the echo of Dean's phone in the motel room and quickly stepped inside. Dean was here, Sam could hear the phone, and there was Dean. Sitting on the bed, really strangely upright. Thank god.

"Dean? What the hell, man? We went to the hospital." Sam crossed the room in huge strides, wanting to stand Dean up and check for injuries, but something in Dean's face stopped him. The bright light of Dean's ringing phone caught Sam's eye, sitting next to Dean on the bed. "You're not answering your phone."

Dean turned his head slowly to Sam, and Sam instantly knew something was very very off. There was black goo running from Dean's right ear. He stood up slowly, cocking his favourite gun and pointing it directly at Sam.

"You should have looked for me when I was in Purgatory." Sam stared back at the hard cold eyes that were just an echo of his brother's. If this had happened at any other time, Sam was 100% sure he could've talked Dean out of it, could've talked Dean off of the edge and back into himself, taking over the ghost possession. Dean would be able to do it, Sam was sure. But now, with everything that was in between them? It was bad enough Sam couldn't use love to talk Dean back, it would be pointless because Dean wouldn't think he meant it, but this possession was actually based off of anger. Hate. And that was exactly the problem between them.

"Come on, Dean. I know it's not you in there pulling the strings." Sam stayed as still and calm as he possibly could, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's and praying for some sort of logical recognition. The fact that Dean hadn't splattered his blood and the walls yet was a sign, at least. The other spector victims acted instantly, killing their victims only moments after they said why. And Dean still hadn't pulled the trigger. That was good, at least.

"Shut up!" Sam detected slight movement to his side, which must have been Garth, because Dean suddenly turned his head to him, shouting. "Don't!" 

Dean turned back to Sam, his voice full of gravel and pain and anger. "You never even wanted this life. Always blamed me for pulling you back into it."

"That's not true." Sam wasn't lying for the spektor's benefit, it honestly wasn't true. There had been a time Sam had been content with this life (well, kind of) and Sam had absolutely _never_ blamed Dean for pulling him back into it. They had gone over this before, with the damned god of truth or whatever he was. And Sam had proven to Dean it wasn't Dean's fault. Apparently, it hadn't sunken in enough, because Dean was still blaming himself.

"Really? 'Cause everything you've ever done since you climbed into my ride has been to deceive me." There was plenty of lying on both of their ends. Sam more, yeah. But Dean had just pulled his biggest deception yet, and Sam wasn't holding a gun to him for crying out loud. And climbing into Dean's ride? Dean had practically dragged him into leaving Palo Alto. The spektor wasn't exactly accurate, just the tiniest details off. It was a little comforting to know, that maybe it didn't have full control and Dean was messing the words a little when he could. Or maybe he honestly just remembered all of this differently from Sam. Maybe Dean honestly saw all of this that way. That Sam was out to deceive Dean and hurt him.

"What do you want me to say? That I've made mistakes? I've made mistakes, Dean." 

"That's not Dean, Sam." Garth's voice was careful from behind Sam. He knew Garth meant well, but it was still Dean. Sam had been anger-possessed before, Dr. Ellicott or something like that. And yeah, it hadn't been Sam's choice to get _that pissed_ but the words he'd said weren't out of thin air, it was things that had all crossed his mind before. Sam had told Dean later that he didn't mean it, and honestly he hadn't meant about 90% of it. But the other 10% he'd been quite sincere. The only problem was, Sam had no idea which parts were the 10% for Dean. So Dean could possibly mean any of it. Or it could possibly just the spektor blowing up useless thoughts into real concepts. Sam had no way to know.

"Shut up!" Dean's voice was deeper than usual, rougher like how it used to be after a night in bed with Sam. Sam was looking down, scared and sorry and wishing to god he'd done things differently. Then his gaze snapped back up, as Dean started speaking again. "Mistakes? Well, let's go through some of Sammy's greatest hits. Drinking demon blood, check. Being in cahoots with Ruby. Not telling me that you lost your soul. Or how about running around with Samuel for a whole year, letting me think that you were dead while you're doing all kinds of crazy. Those aren't mistakes, Sam. Those are choices!"

"All right." Sam couldn't look at Dean as he said it, brought out every knife and regret he could dig into Sam's ribs. The spektor was still off on a few things, which was a little helpful, that meant they weren't in the 10% of truth. Like the _not telling me you lost your soul._ Sam hadn't known, Dean found out the exact same time Sam did. So apparently the soul losing thing wasn't the worst painful thing for Dean. Of course Sam wasn't going to get off that easily. "You said it. We've both played a little fast and loose."

"Yeah, I might have lied, but I never once betrayed you." Sam looked up, forcing himself to not cry. This was not about that. So yeah, Dean was loyal and Sam wasn't. Sam had been with Ruby, Amelia. Dean had stayed faithful in his love to Sam, and Dean thought Sam hadn't. "I never once left you to die. And for what, a girl? You left me to die for a girl?"

Sam saw his opportunity the second Dean said the world girl. That was it, part of the speech that was actually Dean and actually the truth. Which meant that the spektor was still in control, but Dean had just a smidgen more say in the matter, which is why Sam had to act _now_. Dean's hand wasn't tightly gripped on his gun anyways, but the girl comment made him loosen up more, so Sam managed to knock Dean's hand aside in the moment of hesitation. The second the gun was aimed somewhere else, Sam reeled back a fist and punched Dean as hard as he could muster up in the short window of time he had. Before Dean could register what was happening, Sam hauled Dean to the nearest wall and slammed him into it, which also happened to be a glass pane, but any port in a storm. The glass shattered and spilled all over the floor, crunching under their matching heavy boots.

Sam lifted his fist and slammed it into Dean again, catching it on Dean's beautiful jaw that Sam used to caress with his fingertips and leave kisses in a trail along. The thought just fueled him again, landing another heavy punch on Dean's jaw. Dean used his momentum from Sam's punch and reversed it back, his arm coming up and his hand slamming against Sam's face. Everything went starry for a moment, Sam hadn't been hit that hard in god knows how long. The second that Sam straightened again, Dean's skull slammed against Sam, sending him backwards with a loud sound. Dean finished the job with a kick into Sam's gut, flying his body backwards. Sam landed on the coffee table, pain spiking up through his spine and ribs and basically everywhere. He drew in what air he could get into his lungs, managing to back himself up against the couch he knew would be behind him. 

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Garth stepped in front of Dean. What did he have a death wish? Sam had a vague chance against the reeved-up Dean, but Garth would be flattened in seconds.

"Garth, don't."

"No, he won't kill me. His beef isn't with me. You're not gonna shoot me, are you, Dean?" Dean was breathing heavily, but otherwise looked disappointingly unscathed. Sam could feel blood tricking out of his nose, and moving hurt all over.

"Move." Dean held the gun pointed at Garth, his eyes steely but not on fire like they were before. Sam leaned back against the couch, trying to get his lungs to work properly again.

"Come on, Dean. You do not want to kill your brother. You – you've been protecting him your whole life. Don't stop now."

"He left me to rot in Purgatory!" The word rot was practically screamed, Dean was so pissed. Sam didn't have a rebuttle, he just prayed Garth had some idea of what he was doing.

"All right. All right. Maybe he did. I don't know. I wasn't there. But I'm sure he had his reasons." Dean wasn't looking at Garth, he looked past him down at Sam. The look would be flirtatious if it wasn't dripped in blood, black goo, and hate.

"Just like you had your reasons for Benny." So long as they were yelling at each other, Sam might as well contribute how pissed to hell he was with Dean. He spit out Benny's name like how Draco Malfoy said "Mudblood."

"Who?" Garth turned to Sam, confused and so puppy-like Sam wondered how he hadn't been shredded yet.

"Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you've ever been!" Sam had to blink and look away. He had thought the worst thing would be for Dean to not love him anymore, to replace him with another lover. But Sam had never thought of this, never thought that this would even be a possibility. There was nothing Dean could say that was worse. It was like the demon-blood hallucinations all over again. _You're a monster._ Sam had been a lot of things in Dean's life, his friend, enemy, lover, and recently, practically punching bag. But through it all, no matter what came and went, whether they kissed or punched or forgot each other, there had been one thing. One constant that was always always there, the only true steady thing in Sam's life that could never be taken from him. And that was his brother. _brother_. The only word that held more meaning in Sam's life than any other word combined. Dean was his brother, and that was equivalent to his everything. Even if the world were to end, and they hated each other so much they left for opposite ends, they would still always have that. Brothers.

Apparently, not anymore.

There was nothing Dean could say that could've hurt more. 

Dean saw it too, saw the pain all over Sam's face. Saw how badly it ripped inside of him, tore up everything he had inside. Sam was so shocked he didn't even consider that it might be part of the twisted, untrue 90%. It was just to overwhelming of a thought to think about anything else in the entire world. Dean could pull the trigger now, and Sam would be thinking of nothing but the fact that Dean didn't want him as a brother anymore.

"That's right. Cas let me down. You let me down. The only person that hasn't let me down is Benny." Sam was fairly sure his unability to breathe didn't have much to do with his lungs anymore.

"I know you're angry. But, man, you got to fight this thing. Do not do this! Just let it go. Come on, Dean." Garth was pleading, but neither of them was listening. Sam was just hearing Dean's words on repeat. Over and over, a smooth loop that was probably never going to end until Dean ended him.

"Goodbye, Sam." Dean attempted to push past Garth, then Garth suddenly punched him. Sam watched in surprise as Garth's balled fist hit Dean's jaw, the same place Sam had. Then there was a flash of silver and a tiny clink as the penny dropped from Dean's hand to the floor.

"Ow! God!" Garth shook the hand he punched Dean with. Dean looked up, feeling his jaw carefully for a moment before looking at the scene with new eyes, his lips parted in shock. Garth stooped down and...was he picking up the penny?!

"Garth, don't!" Garth straightened up, flash of silver in between his fingers.

"It's cool. It's all good. I'm cool." Sam looked at him, seeing how he stayed relaxed, somehow unaffected. Then Sam chanced looking over at Dean, who was lifting a slightly shaking had to his ear, feeling the black goo there. Sam looked back to Garth, sighing heavily. It was over. It was all fucking over.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam shut the trunk of the Impala, turning to Dean. Garth was gone, and they had to talk. It was time for this all to be over. Sam had almost gotten killed because Dean didn't know, didn't understand. They had to have a fresh start, and that meant honesty. 

"For the record, the girl – her name's Amelia. Amelia Richardson. She and I had a place together in Kermit, Texas." Dean shifted on his feet, his voice tired and exactly opposite of the enraged emotion it held earlier.

"Look, man, I don't even remember what I said, but, uh –"

"But what? But you didn't mean it? Oh, please." Sam didn't need the excuses. Now was not the time for Dean's "blowing it off" speech and routine. Not anymore. Things were changing between them, right now. Sam was going to make sure of it. "You and I both know you didn't need that penny to say those things."

"Come on, Sam." Like Sam had just said the most outrageous thing ever. Sam was pretty sure that was the farthest from outrageous you could get.

"Own up to your crap, Dean. I told you from the jump where I was coming from, why I didn't look for you. But you? You had secrets. You had Benny. And you got on your high and mighty, and you've been kicking me ever since you got back. But that's over. So move on, or I will."

It had two meanings. Dean heard them both, just like Sam knew he would. Move on from holding Amelia over his head, from bringing up that Sam had quit. Dean had to get over what happened during their year apart. Or Sam was gone. It was that simple. _Or I will_. It was a threat and a promise. Dean had his chance, right now, to have Sam again. To take him back, for them to start over. Dean got to chose right now, between that and the alternative, Sam leaving, everything they ever had gone and Dean becoming just an ex. Because Sam would do it. He'd leave Dean if he had to. Because he couldn't live like this, Dean couldn't ask him to live like this. Either they were together again, or they would forever go their separate ways.

"Okay. I hear you." Dean was quiet and agreeable, he knew exactly how much was on the line.

"Good." Sam walked around to his door of the car. This meant by no means that they were dating again, or even that anything was final. Just that the fighting about the past year had to _stop_. Or Sam was gone. He turned to Dean, facing him over the hood of the Impala. "You know what? Hear this, too. I just might be that hunter that runs into Benny one day and ices him."

"I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, won't we?" Dean was overly calm and collected, like he was almost mocking Sam. Sam glared at him a little, swinging open his door.

"Yeah. Yeah. You keep saying that." Dean looked at him cooly, his eyes steady. Sam didn't say anything more, he just got inside the car, waiting as Dean took a moment before joining him. 

They drove in silence, switching off after a few hours. Maybe it was the fact that they finally got all of that out of their systems, or maybe it was the **time** Sam had been waiting on finally kicking in. Or maybe it was the long stretch of blacktop under Baby's wheels, the soft sounds of AC/DC playing from the radio. Maybe it was the silence in between them, that grew from icey to cool to being pushed to the edge, both of them constantly glancing at each other then finally just melted, all of the anger dissolving under the glow of the Impala's headlights. Maybe it was the fact that they both got well needed sleep, and time next to each other just to think about everything they knew now. Everything that had almost happened.

Whatever it was, by dawn, Sam was smiling at Dean's ridiculous order at the diner for breakfast.


	97. Circumambient (A Little Slice of Kevin  08x07)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, porn. Again. Finally!
> 
> This is actually PART 1 of this episode. This ended up being a little long, and this episode is important as hell, so I definitely need to write the second half. This half only takes place just before the episode, and so the next chapter is going to be in the episode. Which means Destiel. woop woop!
> 
> This though, is just Wincest. Lots and lots of wincest. Enjoy!

Dean opened up the cabin door, making his way through the familiar dark to the lightswitch that was very inconvienently placed in the kitchen and not by the door. Rufus wasn't the type to think of those things when building a hideout cabin, so Dean wasn't going to complain. The door shut, blocking what little light Dean had to reach the lightswitch. He grumbled something bitchy towards Sam automatically, but managed to find and flip on the lightswitch seconds later anyways. 

The cabin lit up, everything just how Dean remembered leaving it. Sam dumped Dean's extra duffel on the floor, making his way back to the bedroom with his own stuff. Dean scooped up the duffel and followed. The past couple of times they'd been to Rufus's cabin, Dean had slept on the couch. Not tonight, though. 

After breakfast this morning, Sam had caught Dean at the car and kissed him, just a normal sort of kiss that dedicated couples shared all the time. Nothing sweet and slow, nor rushed and needy. It was just their mouths connecting again, Dean moving his lips across Sam's automatically before he even realized they were kissing. Afterwards, it was almost like it never happened, it was so goddamn normal. But when Sam pulled away, stumbling out an apology, a fire lit inside Dean. 

His brain finally absorbed it all, how totally normal Sam's mouth felt slotted against his own. It had been a month since Sam had kissed him and a year since they'd kissed like this. Suddenly Dean couldn't take the distance anymore, the distance that time had forced between them. He grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and pushed him into the back seat, climbing in on top of Sam's lap and closing the door behind them.

Dean straddled Sam's thighs, practically attacking Sam's mouth as he grinded his pelvis down on Sam's. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's back, hauling him in closer and making their jackets pressed tighter against each other. Dean's hands settled on the back of Sam's neck, his fingers curling up into Sam's hair. It was the most passionate kiss Dean could ever remember having. It was like that first gasp of oxygen after being held underwater for centuries. Sam was breathless in only moments, turning his head to the side and panting. 

"Dean." Sam's voice broke over the word, like he'd been longing to say it with that meaning for all of eternity. Dean tilted Sam's head back towards him and kissed Sam again, pulling his mouth up to meet with his own, kissing him as deeply and thoroughly as he could. Sam twisted their mouths, sending shivers up and down Dean's spine. Then Sam's mouth was gone, his forehead tilted against Dean's. Dean chased after Sam's mouth for a moment before he calmed himself down, rolling his head back to the front, lining his nose up with Sam's. They both breathed, panting frantic breaths at first that steadied into deep slow ones. Dean smiled just slightly as he noted they still were synced up, their touching chests expanding and contracting in tandem. He opened his eyes for a moment, his forehead still resting against Sam's. 

"Sam, I just..." Dean's voice was low, not a whisper but quiet enough to make it personal, meant only for Sam's ears.

"Yeah, me too." Dean lifted his head away from Sam's, looking down on his little brother for once. It was a good thing Baby's backseat had plenty of head room, because sitting on Sam's lap in the backseat of any other car would be pretty difficult. But the Impala catered perfectly to their every need, which meant Dean had an inch of clearance when he sat up, no longer pressed up against Sam. Dean slid one of his hands around Sam's neck to his cheek, sliding his thumb over Sam's cheekbone. God, Dean had missed Sam. He'd missed _this_. Dean wanted to just sit here and memorize every inch of Sam's face all over again. As it was, they'd get to the cabin at 9 if they left now, and Dean was really not in the mood for driving up Rufus's crazy-ass Montana backroad at 11 o'clock at night.

So they'd kissed one last time, shorter and sweeter, then they'd hit the road. Both of them had been in great moods from that point on, the music and shy glances at each other filling the time. And talking too, Dean told a few of Purgatory's Most Wanted stories, Sam talked about Riot and his temporary job as a maintenance guy for a motel. They didn't talk a lot about the year apart, just occasionally and in spurts. It was still going to be difficult to talk about, obviously. So they talked about memories too, bringing up hits all the way from when Sam was 9 to just before the Leviathans. They talked about where Kevin could be, how to find the kid, why he'd left. And they spent a lot of time in content silence, just happy to be breathing the same air as each other. It was the closest thing Dean had had to a normal car ride in forever.

And now, they'd finally made it to the cabin, 9:30pm thanks to traffic. It was too late for a supply run, but Dean could go out in the morning. Right now, he was just cold and in the mood for being underneath some blankets. 

The bedroom was just the same as it had always been, just the one bed and a desk and chairs, a detachable mirror on the wall for identifying wraiths or whatever else. Everything here had a function, and Dean was fine with that. It wasn't the most comfy or even resourceful of places, but it was all they had. There weren't even any secret places to stash weapons or whatever, and barely enough floor space for a legitimate Devil's Trap. Only a few of the sigils were actually carved into the cabin, most of them ended up being spray-painted on by either Sam or Dean each visit. But it was remote, which was good. Although maybe a little too remote, since it was in Montana of all places and Sam and Dean didn't spend a lot of time in or near Montana. Humans weren't the only ones who hated getting their feet frozen off, monsters and ghosts didn't like it much either. 

Speaking of frozen, Dean was starting to shiver a little bit. He put his duffel on a chair, watching Sam set his duffel down too, zipping it open and searching through it. Dean shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders and shivered more, but he wasn't in the mood to sleep in the rough material of his jacket, even if it was warm. Besides, the blankets on the bed always ended up being warm enough if Dean just wore a tshirt and sweatpants. Dean was redressed before Sam even found what he was looking for. Which turned out to be a pack of matches, which he finally found and left the room with. Dean flicked off the lightswitch in the bedroom, walking through the darkness to the bed and slipping under the blankets. There were two pillows, but Dean had gotten out of the habit of taking both when he slept next to Sam. Unless they were in a motel, because then they had four pillows circumambient to them.

Footsteps approached the bedroom a few seconds later, the door opening with a creak and closing again with a louder creak. Dean turned over in the sheets, watching Sam strip off his jacket and flannel, slip out of his jeans into his gray sweatpants. Then Sam padded over to the bed, lifting up the sheets and sliding under them. Dean didn't move, still laying on his side of the small bed, facing Sam. He held his breath, unsure what would, should? happen from here. He's been waiting earlier, too, he supposed. Waiting for Sam to make the first move, to be the one to crack through the ice between them. 

Maybe it was because Dean wasn't sure if this was what Sam wanted, if Sam wanted Dean in that way again. It was that familiar voice in the back of his head, the one that he'd been able to silence for so long when he and Sam had been together and official. The one that whispered that no one wanted him, that he was nothing. He had a face and a setting to it now, though. He saw his own face, except the way the shadows hit him made it unfamiliar somehow. And the tree-wallpapered motel room, the flickering desk light. The black eyes, the blood splatter from a shotgun. Dean had seen it once before, when he'd been thrown into his worst nightmare (himself) in their first nasty case involving African Dream Root. It was a monologue from an eerily beautiful man that Dean would never forget. That voice was echoing now, reminders of how Dean couldn't stand mirrors sometimes. He'd even punched a couple, the first being when Sam was at Stanford. Dean had been driving through California when he strayed too close to Palo Alto. He couldn't help it, he had had to go see. Dean had snuck up the back staircase of a building that was clearly in the midst of a party. He'd peeked in a window on the second floor, scanning around the party until his eyes finally lit on his brother. Dean had done a doubletake, not having seen Sam in months. Then Sam leaned forward, his mouth attaching to some pretty girl's. Dean's eyes widened, Sam's name slipping out of his lips. Then he'd bolted, running down the stairs and back to the car, driving hard and fast to the next useless motel. He'd washed his face, trying to wash out the memories too. Then he'd looked up, leveling his gaze on his reflection. Then there was a flash, where Dean could swear he had seen Sam standing behind him in the mirror. Dean spun around, his eyes hopeful for some stupid reason. Obviously, the room had been mockingly empty. Dean turned back to his reflection, looking with hatred at the green eyes that glared back at him. Tears fiddled behind those eyes, tears Dean told himself were of rage. He bit his lip to keep out the trembling. It was all just too much. Before a tear could spill, Dean reeled back a fist and slammed it into the face staring back at him. The mirror shattered, spiderwebbing out a pattern, promising seven years of bad luck and splitting the mirror-Dean's face into segments, separating him into pieces just like he felt inside. There'd been mirrors since, too, that Dean had slammed a fist into, some for similar reasons, some to run from Hell and the black fire eyes he saw staring back at him. They all ran through his mind now, as he stood on that mental cliff, waiting to be pushed off again, the way he always was. The insecurities had set in again in this same cabin, months ago, when he'd seen Sam for the first time and found out Sam had abandoned the job. If Sam could abandon what he'd been doing for twenty years, then of course he could (did) abandon what he'd been doing for only a few years: Dean.

If Sam stayed on his side of the bed, turned his back on Dean, Dean would surely sink into a pit of despair, easily fenced by anger. He'd never trust again. Although it wasn't like he actually trusted anyone with anything. Because how many times had this happened to Dean? Maybe that was why he didn't trust at all. Even now, how was he supposed to? Dean got broken enough when he didn't trust people, he might not make it out alive if he gave himself away again. No, Dean would be careful. He could do that. He'd already lost so much. He'd lost Sam, too many times, and he'd lost Cas. Dean couldn't think about that though, didn't let that word enter his mind. Ever. He could only handle one broken heart, thinking about...him...would surely send Dean and the Impala off the nearest steep Montana pass. So Dean just buried it all, everything hid away as deep in his mind as he could, not thinking about him ever for any reason. 

Sam always used to murmur to Dean how perfect and needed and important he was, how he was worthy and loved. Dean used to believe it sometimes. Dean didn't think he'd believe it now if Sam told them to him again. Maybe he'd never believe it again. Or maybe they still needed time. Or maybe it would just be a look in Sam's eyes, or the sincerity of a caress that would make Dean a believer again. But now, they were at the Saratoga battle, the turning point. Either Sam would roll over here to Dean, do something, say something, _anything_. Or they'd fall asleep this way, Sam on his side and Dean on his own. It had to be Sam, though, who made the move. It was the first chance of having it, having _something to believe in_.

"Dean?" Dean's eyes flew open, he'd screwed them shut tightly in his trip down memory lane. His eyes didn't adjust to the darkness as quickly as he would've liked, everything was to dark to see exactly how far away Sam was.

"Yeah?" Dean whispered. There was a pause, a silent moment that felt filled up with every single possible thing Sam could say right now. Dean was holding his breath again. The beat of silence went on, longer than usual. For a brief second, Dean thought maybe Sam had fallen asleep on him. Then the air went static with energy, and Dean tensed in anticipation. Saratoga. 

Sam's voice was sure, low, the most familiar and the strangest thing Dean could remember hearing.

"I love you."

Dean fought back tears, fought back the shivers running through his body. He still shook a little, just enough to move the bed enough to make Sam notice. Sam rolled over, suddenly there, _here_. Sam was here. Then there was a hand on Dean's cheek, and lips on Dean's mouth. Dean kissed Sam back like it was the last time he'd ever get to, like he'd be shipped halfway across the country tomorrow and they only had tonight. They. Them again. Sam and Dean. The two halves, finally the one they needed to be. Dean would finally be whole. Their shared soul, separated by the space between their bodies, would be separated no more. Not tonight. Tonight, they'd be just one again.

Sam pushed gently on Dean's shoulder, rolling him onto his back. They broke apart their mouths, and Dean scooted into the middle of the bed, looking up at Sam hovering above him. A few stray strands of Sam's hair escaped their place tucked behind Sam's ears. Dean's eyes had adjusted now, and he could all but see the hazel in the eyes on his.

"Me too, Sammy." Dean spoke now, his voice low due to the late hour. A soft smile came over Sam's face, then he was tugging at the hem of Dean's shirt. Dean helped Sam undress them both, tossing their clothes to the foot of the bed. Dean reached up and kissed Sam, pulling him down on top of him and rolling his hips up to meet Sam's. Sam groaned and flattened his weight down on Dean, his erection rutting up against Dean's v-muscle. Dean felt bound with warmth, encompassed by the feeling of sweet skin on skin. 

Dean left tiny crescent-moons on Sam's back, his fingers curling into Sam's hard muscles. Sam tilted his head and sharpened the kiss, nipping at Dean's mouth and swiveling his hips filthily against Dean's. Dean let out a moan, bucking up into Sam and pleading with every motion of his body. Sam lifted his pelvis away from Dean's, which elicited a verbal complaint muffled by Sam's mouth. Then one of Sam's hands was underneath Dean's thigh, lifting up his leg and pulling his knee up. Sam's mouth broke away from Dean's just in time for Dean to gasp at the sudden rush of cold air to now exposed skin. 

Sam pushed away from Dean and leaned back on his heels. He scooted to the edge of the bed, reaching out one of his lanky arms to grab at his duffel, taking a few times before he managed to grab enough material to pull it closer. Dean couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. Sam looked absolutely ridiculous, in a fight with a duffel he could barely reach, leaning off the edge of the bed and about to topple, his body as naked as the day he was born, hardened cock pressed up against his stomach as he tried not to fall off the bed and still find a bottle of lube. He finally did find one, snatching it triumphantly and nearly falling off the bed in the process. 

Dean did laugh aloud this time, and Sam shot him a glare. After regaining his balance and managing not to drop the little bottle, that is. The bitch face Sam gave him was almost as funny as watching Sam nearly fall off the bed, and Dean laughed again. He turned his head a little to the side, his chest moving as the laughter fell off his lips. It wasn't particularly loud or anything, a lot closer to a breathless laugh, but it felt good. And when Dean turned his head back to look at Sam again, Sam's face was echoed in a smile. 

Then Sam pressed two of his slicked up fingers to Dean's entrance, and the laughter turned into a punched sigh, air escaping his lungs in a rush. Sam slid in the first finger, making Dean's hips lift up off the bed a bit with the sensation. Sam pushed it slowly in, all the way past his second knuckle. It took Dean a moment to adjust, his eyes shutting for a few seconds before he nodded, opening his eyes up again and watching Sam as he pressed a second finger in alongside the first. Dean squirmed a little bit, but managed to swivel his hips enough to make it vaguely comfortable. The fingers separated and moved inside of Dean, coaxing him open and making him bite his lip as he watched Sam's face. His mouth was going to be swollen, but Dean had nowhere to be tomorrow and he wasn't worried. He could definitely take a supply run with a bruised mouth and a funny gimp. It wasn't like he hadn't a hundred times before. Okay, not a hundred, but quite a few.

Dean was fully comfortable with the stretch now, even only managed out a hiss when Sam stabbed in a third. And Dean was getting impatient, watching Sam who seemed so far away, down at the other end of the bed. They needed to get this show on the road. Now, preferably.

"Sam, c'mon. Before the sun comes up, if you don't mind." Dean bit out the words breathily, looking down his body at Sam. Sam just made another face that Dean couldn't see quite clearly in the darkness, but he was fairly sure it was a bitch face. 

"You're not very patient, sweetheart." But Sam was crawling back up the bed anyways, his mouth on Dean's before Dean could come back with some bitchy comment in reference to the sappy petname. They weren't really the type to call each other baby and sweetcakes or whatever, but Sam used them to tease Dean all the time. Dean supposed it was because Sam didn't really have a nickname for Dean. Well, Sam used to call him "Dee" sometimes, but there wasn't a very big difference between Dean and Dee. Although there wasn't really that big of a difference between Sam and Sammy either, except they meant entirely different things.

One of Sam's hands ran from Dean's jawline down his neck, sliding carefully over Dean's clavical and down his pectoral muscle slowly. Sam's finger's paused at Dean's nipple, brushing a light circle over the sensitive skin. Dean arched up into Sam's hand and bit softly down on Sam's lower lip, the sensation sending shivers down Dean's spine. Sam teased it into perkiness, Dean making soft noises in the back of his throat. Then Sam continued his hand's descent down Dean's torso, outlining his ribs and stroking down to his waist. His hand paused again, circling around to Dean's lower back and splaying as large as it could, pulling Dean up into him, pressing them together tightly. Dean rocked his hips against Sam's, his cock rubbing up against Sam's, warm and nearly painful friction between them. 

It was Sam's turn to make pitiful noises, encouragingly rolling into the friction more. Dean was going to lose it like this if Sam didn't hurry up. Sam ended the kiss again, nosing Dean's face to the side and attaching his mouth to Dean's exposed neck. Dean's eyes rolled back in pleasure, Sam's cock still rubbing up against his and his talented mouth sucking a bruise into Dean's skin. Dean's fingers dug into Sam's back muscles a little more, his thrusts against Sam losing some of their finessé.

"S-sam," Dean whined. "Please."

Sam finally stopped his teasing, the hand leaving Dean's back and going to the base of Sam's cock, his hips shifting backward and his mouth leaving Dean's neck be, after a gentle lick over the already bruising spot. Sam scooted further down Dean's body, lining himself up at Dean's entrance, one hand on his dick and the other on Dean's thigh. They locked eyes as Sam tilted his hips up, sliding the head of his cock into the wet mess Sam had made of Dean's hole. 

Dean reached out his hand, grabbing onto Sam's wrist, the one that had a hand on Dean's thigh. Sam let go of Dean's leg and interlocked their fingers instead, squeezing Dean's hand tightly as he pushed his way inside of Dean. Dean squeezed back, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he watched what he could see of the expressions of ecstasy crossing Sam's features. It had been so long since Sam had taken Dean like this, so long Dean had nearly forgotten the feeling. How it was, to be filled to the brim, stuffed full and heavy and sated with pleasure. 

Sam sunk into Dean all the way, only pausing for a moment before he pulled back, making Dean's heart pound and the hand he had in the sheets ball up in a fist. Once Sam just had the head of his cock inside still, he thrust back in, scooting Dean up a fraction of an inch on the bed. Dean tossed his head to the side and groaned, his chest filling with air as he breathed in sharply. 

Their intwined hands gripped each other, and Dean briefly entertained the idea that he might have Sam-shaped marks in the space between his fingers tomorrow. That one was going to go on the list of best bruises ever. Sam lifted their hands higher, pushing them back towards Dean as he leaned over Dean's chest, changing the angle as he thrust inside Dean. Sam put most of his weight on their entwined hands, rocking his hips forward with careful precision and a rhythm that felt like heaven. Well, actually, much better than heaven. It felt like Sam.

Dean let his eyes drift closed, unable to see Sam as well in the dark as he would like to anyways. Dean was always one for dim lighting, or the dark, that was fine. But the only person he'd had sex with in broad daylight was Sam. It wasn't that Dean didn't like his body. Sure, he didn't have the abs Sam did, or any of the muscle Sam did, really. But Dean still was in good shape, and all his battlescars weren't embarrassing in the least. The broad daylight just felt strangely intimate. It made everything so real, like sex was a part of life instead of a part of the night. It was kind of odd and eye-opening the first time he'd done it, and while he didn't necessarily prefer it, (sex with Sam was awesome anywhere any time of day) sometimes he liked being able to see the flickers of pleasure across Sam's pretty face. 

But the nice thing about the dark, like now, was that Dean could close his eyes and let his other four senses heighten. It made the way Sam was rocking inside him much more acute, he could feel every inch of Sam's cock sliding against the velvet smoothness inside. And he could taste Sam on his tongue still, even though Sam's mouth was busy panting and not on Dean's. Dean could hear the faint creaking of the bed over the sound of their bodies slamming together. And he could smell Sam, smell Dean's shampoo in his hair - the punk - and the sweat sheen that had covered both of their bodies. It was the most wonderful kind of overload, of Sam in him and around him and over him. 

The hand Dean had balled in the sheets was starting to cramp from holding on so tightly, and Dean slowly made an effort to relax it, uncurling his fingers and laying his palm flat on the ruffled sheets. God, Dean could stay this way forever. It was times like these that Dean finally felt alright. He felt whole, like he was never going to give up again. Being born with only half of his soul had reeked havoc on Dean's life, but when they put their two halves together, when the held each other or made love to each other, or just sat across from each other at a diner, ankles wrapped around one another, or when they shared a look in the car, one of them in shotgun until the day they died. This...Dean had lost this so many times. Every time Sam had left him, when he'd been killed by Jake and Dean had to sell his soul, when Dean had lost Sam and had been dragged down to hell away from his brother, when they went their separate ways for a week after Lucifer got out of his cage, when Sam had jumped into the pit and left Dean for a year, when he almost died because of his hallucinations, when Dean lost Sam and got dragged down to Purgatory. They had a seriously bad habit of losing each other and it was something Dean wanted to swear they'd never do again. 

One day, maybe, they'd make that commitment. Dean was never the commitment type, he was more the Fly by Night type, taking off whenever things got serious. But with Sam, Dean only wanted to fly away if Sam was coming with him. Dean needed the road, he did, but he needed Sam more. But honestly, they'd been doing a lot of rambling on in their lives, and maybe it was time they stopped running around without a home. Rufus's cabin was homebase, yeah, but it wasn't really home. Home was this, their bodies connected in every way they could be, their souls and fingers entwined. 

Wow, when had Dean become such a girl? Sam must be rubbing off on him in a lot more ways than just the way he was pumping into Dean right now. Dean opened his eyes again, adjusting to the darkness of the room and becoming consciously aware of the noises falling out of his parted lips. If Dean was in any other state of mind, he'd be embarrassed as hell. As it was, he just reached up his free hand, hooking it around the back of Sam's head and pulling Sam's mouth over his own.

Sam kissed Dean back eagerly, their mouths sloppy and uncontrolled. Sam's tongue swept inside Dean's mouth, running across the inside of Dean's lower lip. Dean twisted their lips and sucked at Sam's tongue, whining as Sam teethed at Dean's lips. Sam shifted a little to move his mouth better against Dean's, and his hips shifted as well, his next thrust suddenly making Dean see stars. Dean let out a strangled sound into Sam's mouth, suddenly sparking all over and losing all of his conscious brain functions. He thrashed his head to the side, leaving Sam's mouth so he could gasp in oxygen. Sam started kissing along Dean's jawline, biting every few kisses then lavishing his tongue over the bite marks.

"Sa-sa-saam," Dean could barely speak, filled with the constantly pummeling of his prostate that was making him go insane. Sam just responded with quickening his tempo, drilling the head of his cock into the sensitive spot inside of Dean. Dean fought to breathe, his body trying to get oxygen in his lungs but his brain not functioning well enough to tell it how to. The hand Dean had on the back of Sam's neck tightened, digging his fingernails into the tense muscle connecting Sam's neck to his shoulders.

Dean used to give Sam massages into that muscle, the kid used to be all kinds of tense before big tests like the SAT, and Dean always just insisted that tense muscles were dangerous to hunt with. He had lots of excuses, some of which sounded ridiculous even to Dean's ears. But Sam would let Dean work out the knots in those muscles, hissing every time Dean dug his fingers in roughly enough to relieve some of the tension. Now, Sam made the same hissing noise, dipping his head and letting some of his hair spill out of place and into his face. Dean wasn't in a place of mind where he could change his grip on Sam's neck, even if he had been cognitive enough to recognize what it was doing to Sam. 

"Dean," Sam breathed. Dean's dick twitched against his stomach, the hot coil inside threatening to release. Sam kept his fast pace up, rubbing Dean's prostate over and over, his soft dislodged hair brushing against Dean's neck. Dean's brain was trying to process everything at once over the shock of the stars swimming in his vision. Sam was in him, and on him, and everywhere.

It was their entwined fingers that finally sent Dean up and over the edge. Sam squeezed his hand, spinning the ring on Dean's right hand a bit. Dean's body convulsed, clenching him tightly around Sam as he shot pearly streaks onto both of their chests. Sam attempted one more thrust, the tightened state of Dean's hole trapping his cock in place as he released inside of Dean, come painting Dean's insides to match the current sticky state of their flushed outsides. Sam's name fell out of Dean's mouth, the only word he still knew when he came.

Dean shook with his orgasm, his mouth open in a silent moan. There were fireworks when Dean closed his eyes, fireworks like the Fourth of July. He had no idea how long he was out of it, just riding the bliss and physical relief that came from taking on an orgasm that high, that ground-dropping. Eventually he registered the encroaching emptiness as Sam pulled out, taking with him a lot of warmth that Dean was already missing. Dean felt sticky and damp, covered with sweat and sex and the remnants of both of their orgasms. He was strangely not bothered by it in the least. It was a hell lot better than being covered in monster blood and guts. Dean would take Sam's come over a lot of stuff he'd gotten drenched in. Once Sam pulled out, and Dean shivered once from the extremely empty feeling, he noticed an absence of a heavy weight on his chest. 

Dean fluttered open his eyes, surprised to see Sam hadn't been the little bitch he usually was and just collapsed on top of Dean post-orgasm. Dean opened his eyes just in time to see Sam fall to the side, rolling off of Dean and on to the bed next to him. It was like Sam was avoiding squishing him or something. Dean wasn't a girl, he could handle some weight...wait. Oh. _Oh._

Sam was used to having sex with girls, or well, a girl. And he obviously hadn't flattened her afterwards, that was the brotherly-shithead side of Sam. Then there was the small fact that Dean could totally take Sam's heavy weight, no matter the time or occasion. Unlike Sam's girl. Who Dean was absolutely not going to think about. Dean pushed the observation and all thoughts of the girl aside, determined not to let her ruin any more of his life. Especially his post-orgasmic life. Because that was one of Dean's favourite parts of life. That and breakfast.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came out a little hoarse, although not as badly as when he gave a blowjob, that was a voice _wrecker_. Dean turned his head to look at his collapsed brother.

"Mmm?" Sam had the back of one hand over his eyes, something he occasionally did when he was super tired. Dean looked at Sam quietly until Sam finally dropped his hand and turned his head to Dean.

"We should fight more often if that's what the makeup sex is gonna be like." Sam snorted and rolled his head back to look up at the ceiling. Dean could see the outline of a smile on Sam's mouth. They both stayed quiet for a few minutes before Sam turned his head back to face Dean again, who had been watching Sam the whole time. Sam's grin widened as he caught Dean looking at him. 

"C'mere." Dean scooted over to Sam, letting the younger man wrap his arm around Dean's shoulders and haul him into his side. Sam ran his fingers over Dean's ribs before tucking Dean closer with an arm around his waist. Dean let his eyes drift closed.

He was a little surprised Sam didn't go get washcloths or shower or something. Sam didn't always clean them up, they'd slept sticky a few times before. But with the girl, there would've been no sticky at all, Sam emptying into a condom and problem solved. Dean didn't use a condom with Sam, they'd both been checked and were clean, so it was basically a waste of plastic. So Dean figured Sam would want to clean all this mess, since he hadn't had to deal with it for the past year. But Sam seemed perfectly content to sleep with Dean's come on his chest, and Dean was too sleepy to protest either. Even though he'd bitch at himself and Sam in the morning. 

Dean squeezed his eyes tighter to block out the thoughts of the girl again. How had she come back up? Dean breathed in Sam's scent, and the scent of sex in the air. Okay. Them. All other thoughts besides Sam vanished and Dean's face relaxed again. He dipped his head a little closer into Sam's side, a content smile on his face. He had so missed this. And tomorrow was going to be a great day, Dean could already tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Stanford-Era shattering mirror story, it's outlined here in this video I made:
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mnc8ki9nv7U
> 
> PART 2 to this chapter will be posted as soon as I can write it :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I'm quite honored you've read this far. I hope you get some sort of joy or satisfaction out of reading my interpretation of our boys' story.
> 
> xx


	98. Part Two (A Little Slice of Kevin 08x07)

Everything slowly hazed into focus through the grogginess that Dean blinked his way through. It took a couple of seconds to register that he wasn't in a motel room, surprise, and instead saw the wooden walls of Rufus's cabin. And there was a warm weight around his waist, and soft breathing between his shoulder blades. Dean made a low note in his throat, lifting his head to look over his shoulder at the sleeping form wrapped around him. Sam's hair was messy and covering his face, but it was easy to tell he was smiling from what glimpses Dean could see. Dean caught himself grinning at the sight and turned his head back towards the wall, huffing as he lay back down. 

The arm around his waist tightened a little and Dean laid a hand over it, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Sam's skin. The knees against the back of his own adjusted a little too, pushing up against Dean a little further. Dean bit his lip as he fought back his smile at the shifting of his brother's various limbs that he could feel against his own. Sam grumbled something into Dean's back, his mouth warm and dry against Dean's bare skin. 

"Hmm?" Dean lifted his head again, making the inquiring sound over his shoulder at Sam. Sam finally lifted his head too, looking over at Dean through a messy veil of tangled brown hair. His eyes were still half lidded and sleepy, his chin resting on the corner of Dean's bicep and shoulder.

"I don' wanna get up." The words were a lot less muffled this time, all sated and warm with sleep, still quieter than Sam's normal voice. Dean untucked his arm from underneath the side of his body, rolling a little more on to his back as he reached up the finally free hand to brush back a piece of hair from Sam's face. 

"We don't have to quite yet." Dean raised an eyebrow suggestively and Sam snorted, letting his arm slip off of Dean's waist and falling away from Dean's back, staring up at the ceiling with his legs and lower body still tangled in the sheets. Dean took that as his queue and turned all the way around to face Sam, rolling up on top of him, one knee landing between Sam's legs.

"How does breakfast in bed sound?" Dean didn't bother to try to get the sleepy rasp out of his voice, he could feel exactly what effect it was having on Sam. Sam didn't answer, not with words anyways. He reached up his huge hands and took Dean's face, pulling him down into a kiss. Dean rolled his hips against Sam's lazily, the early morning sun filtering a soft haze across the sheets. Turns out they didn't eat breakfast after all.

~*~*~*~*~

Dean was whistling and extremely cheerful for the rest of the morning, and had volunteered happily to go on their supply run. Sam had kissed him goodbye and said he was working on finding Kevin while Dean was gone. Dean had practically skipped out to the Impala, and then the store had actually had pie, and now it was just him and his Baby and The Animals on the radio, a bag of potato chips to snack on as he rode back to his other baby. The past twelve hours had rocked major and Dean was pretty sure that nothing could take him out of this mood. 

That was the exact thought going through his head as he noticed the figure on the side of the road, walking in the middle of nowhere. The man's thumb wasn't up, so he wasn't a hitchhiker. Dean looked at him curiously as Baby approached the guy. There was something oddly familiar about that guy. Dean followed the man with his eyes as Baby came up on him. Then his face came into view.

Cas? No. Cas. Dean's eyes didn't leave Cas's figure, his head turning all the way around as he almost crashed his car. There was no fucking way. Dean slammed on the brakes, reaching up to adjust his rearview mirror. Cas wasn't there. Dean put Baby in reverse, quickly skirting back to the spot he'd past him. His brain wasn't even functioning, absolutely not at all. The only word he could even think was _Cas_ and now he wasn't here and what the fuck was going on?

A giant bear sign that had absolutely not been there before, pointing to Twin Pines Resort 6 miles that way, stood where Dean had just seen Cas. He had. There was no way that wasn't Cas. It was scruff, tattered trenchcoat, and all. Dean opened up the car door, getting out of Baby and standing in the middle of the road, staring at the bear sign with his jaw slack. He looked back and forth, from the forest to the road, everywhere, Cas had to be goddamned _somewhere_ how could he not be?

Dean blinked a few times and closed the driver's side door, looking down the road in either direction. Nothing. Everything but Cas. An entire absence of Cas. No angel, no nothing. Cas wasn't here.

Dean got back in the car and drove to the cabin in autopilot, not even noticing what was on the radio and minutely grateful that Baby took him where he needed to be without any real effort on his part. He was still in walking-zombie mode when he opened up the door of the cabin. Sam greeted him with a hey, and Dean was pretty sure his mouth said something back.

I mean, he had thought about Cas a lot, sure. Hell, he thought about Cas all the damn time, and all of those thinking episodes ended with a drinking episode. But really, this time was different. Dean could have _sworn_ he'd seen him. God, he was hallucinating. He was hallucination his angel to be walking on the side of the road while he was driving. Dean was _hallucinating._

"You look like you've- I was gonna say you look like you've seen a ghost, but you'd probably be stoked, so, you okay?" A ghost. Dean knew a lot about the supernatural stuff out there, he knew what a ghost was, and that wasn't one. It had to just have been a figment of Dean's imagination. It wasn't supernatural, Dean knew that. So it wasn't anything. Just some weird dreamy thing. Dean was fine. Ghost. Ha.

"Yeah, I'm cool." It wasn't a big deal. So what, he had a daydream. The world kept spinnin. That had to be what it was. "What's up?"

Sam dove into his geek case talk while Dean put away the food and shed his jacket, looking over at Sam as he spoke to his laptop. Dean took care of a couple of domestic things, tossing an empty box to the side and putting stuff in the fridge. Sam kept talking, and Dean was actually managing to pay attention. _Just a dream_. No big deal. If Dean didn't think about it, it didn't happen.

Dean managed to ignore the dreamy-thing for the rest of the day, thanks to missing 6 year olds and Italian guys. And weather? There had to be some sort of connection here. Sam fell asleep around 9:30, curled in towards Dean like how he always was, even when they were on separate beds. Dean had Sam's laptop open on his lap, and he was staring at the articles about the missing people. There had to be something they were missing, there was always something.

They had to be connected. Hmm. _Child Disappears During Unexpected Storm_. It was storming right now, and Sam's knuckles were pressed up against Dean's thigh, his breaths long and relaxed. Sam used to have trouble with storms, or maybe Dean did a little and Sam would pretend it was him so they could hold each other through it. Dean couldn't remember which one of them had trouble with storms. Or maybe it was neither. Maybe it was just an excuse for a warm body in a cold night. 

Lightning lit up the room, flashing across their shared bed and the computer screen. Dean looked up, towards the window and the storm. He had a funny fluttering in his stomach. The flash lit up the window, and Dean saw him. Again.

Cas.

Cas. Dean stared, suddenly extremely attentive. The lightning disappeared, the light gone. The shadow of Cas was still there. He wasn't gone. Dean wasn't dreaming. It was _Cas_. Cas. Dean shut the laptop and tossed it to the end of the bed, not noticing or caring where it landed, not thinking about it, not thinking about anything but Cas. Lightning, Cas. Dean wasn't walking fast enough. Lightning, shadow. Cas was here Cas was okay how how how. Lightning, nothing.

Nothing. Cas was gone. How...Dean was not dreaming. Dean was very very awake and Cas was here and now Cas wasn't. The flash lit up again, echoing out the empty parking lot, no scruffy angel. If Dean was dreaming, wouldn't he have seen the Cas he was so used to, the one who's face he'd cradled, sweet soft lips he touched to his own? Why was it Purgatory's unshaven Cas who Dean had failed, the Cas Dean had somehow managed not to save? It was all he'd done for a year, try to save Cas, and he couldn't. Dean couldn't. And now Cas. Cas was here and then he wasn't he was _gone_ but Dean couldn't have been dreaming, not twice, not this vivid. There was no way. 

The lightning flashed back Dean's reflection, the emptiness as he stood alone, staring out at more empty. More nothing. More Cas-less space. Dean was fairly sure he wasn't breathing.

"Dean?" Dean turned his head, slowly, his jaw probably still slack. Sam was sitting up in bed, looking over at him worriedly. Dean only looked at Sam for a moment before he turned back to the window. Cas had been here, standing just there. And Dean hadn't been fast enough. Cas was gone again. 

"What's going on? Are you alright?" Sam pushed back the sheets, making them rustle. Dean heard Sam's feet hit the ground on the side of the bed, but Dean couldn't turn away from the window. Cas had been here. Dean's Cas, his angel and Dean was literally about to lose it and break down and cry or throw something or shoot the window or run outside screaming at the storm to bring his angel back to him and what the hell had he ever done to deserve this, whatever it was he was sorry, so so sorry he couldn't save his Cas. 

"I don't know." _I don't know what's going on and I don't know if I'm alright, I don't know if I'll ever be alright again. Not with Cas gone, not if I keep seeing him, just out of reach just where I can't have him, reach him, touch him, hold him. Pull him into a hug that had taken way too long to come around._. "I just saw something."

Dean's eyes were searching, back and forth back and forth. He had to find something, there had to be some clue, some piece of evidence he was missing. There was an explanation, somewhere, Dean had to find it. Why was Dean seeing Cas? Dean was faintly aware he was breathing heavy, like he'd been running, but that's what it felt like, like he'd been running for years and years and he was just one step behind grabbing Castiel's hand.

"Uh, you saw what?" Sam's voice had _Dean is crazy_ or _Dean is paranoid_ or _Dean had a nightmare_ written all over it. Yeah, all three were pretty accurate. Dean breathed in again, heavy, like he couldn't get oxygen to his lungs. It was like every breath he drew was getting snatched from his mouth, as he stared at the vacancy of his angel.

"Cas." The word was familiar and heartbreaking on his lips, and Dean closed them. His breathing steadied a little bit, his mouth closed and trapping whatever else may spill out after that. After Cas. 

"Cas." Sam came up next to him, his voice still coated with disbelief and worry. "Where?"

Dean sideglanced at Sam, noting his raised eyebrows. Yeah, Dean knew what this looked like, him staring out an empty window into a storm in the middle of the night, seeing visions of dead best friends who he couldn't save. Yeah, Sam had every right to be looking at him like he should be locked in the looney bin. Saying it out loud made it feel way more ridiculous than it sounded reverberating in Dean's head.

"Right there." Sam looked out the window for a moment, noted it as empty, and turned his gaze back on Dean. Dean kept looking. Maybe Cas would come back. Maybe Cas was still there. Maybe...It was twice in one day, after all. 

"And – and – and earlier, on the road." Dean shook his head, staring out the window. Sam felt oddly far away, everything felt oddly far away. "I feel like I'm seeing him."

"That's... not possible. I mean, you said it yourself. You made it out and he didn't, right?" Dean listened to Sam quietly. It was everything the voice in his head had been telling himself all day. Yeah, Sam was right, that was what happened. But Dean had _seen_ him, he was 100% sure. He had seen Cas. Twice! But it couldn't be. Sam's words started echoing in repeat. _You made it out and he didn't, right? You made it, he didn't. He didn't._

"I tried so damn hard to get us the hell out of there." Dean turned away from the window, looking at Sam for a moment. Then he walked into the room, needing to get away from where Cas was, where Cas had been. No, where Cas _hadn't_ been. 

"I know you did." Dean could still see it, he could feel Cas's soft hand in his, slipping. Slipping away from Dean forever. Dean closed his eyes and breathed out, his lungs feeling like they were filled with water. Water like the river Cas had been kneeling by, the river Dean had searched for for weeks, months, god knows how long. The river Dean had finally pulled Cas into his arms by. It was drowning Dean, drowning him here on dry land.

"You know, I could have pulled him out. I just don't understand why he didn't try harder."

"Dean." Sam's shuffling feet came closer, and Dean turned to him. Sam didn't touch him, Dean wasn't sure why. Maybe because Dean didn't deserve it. "You did everything you could."

Dean didn't look at Sam as he spoke, at his face that didn't understand, didn't see it, couldn't feel Cas's hand slipping away from Dean's forever, his life slipping away too. _Take my hand. Take my whole life too._

It was too late. Gone. Dean finally turned to his brother, looking up at Sam and watching the lightning flash across his features. 

"Yeah, but why do I feel like crap?" Dean sucked in a breath then looked down at his feet. He didn't talk about feelings but this was Cas and for some reason Cas didn't apply to that rule. Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas and yeah, he'd felt like crap for it since the second he felt Cas slip away from him. 

"Survivor's guilt?" Dean chewed his lip. Sam was so logical. It couldn't possibly be because Dean had failed Cas. No, Sam hadn't been there. Maybe if Dean had grabbed onto Cas a little tighter. Maybe if he had timed it different. Or didn't step into the portal until Cas was wrapped in a goddamned hug. Something. Anything.

"Hmm." Dean nodded slightly, and maybe Sam would take that as agreement. But Dean didn't think this was survivor's guilt. It was deeper than that. Deeper even than his stupid broken heart.

"If you let it, this is gonna keep messing with you. You got to walk past it." How many times had Dean given Sam that speech? But Dean couldn't just walk past Cas, walk past his broken heart. That's something that never goes away. Having loved someone and lost them at the slide of your fingertips never goes away.

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder. Dean flinched backwards, automatically flashing Sam with a hostile glare. Sam didn't waver, looking at Dean steadily and keeping his hand a solid weight on Dean's shoulder. Dean blinked a couple of times, breaking Sam's gaze and looking down at his feet. Dean had to let this go, forget about it. Sam might be right about that much.

He'd at least pretend he wasn't thinking about it, for Sam's sake. Dean reached up a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, squinching his eyes shut.

"Sorry, I just..." Dean let go and looked up at Sam again. Sam had an empathetic melt-chocolate look on his face, his voice coming out gentle and soothing as his grip on Dean switched to a soft caress.

"Yeah. I know. Come back to bed?" Dean let Sam guide him back to the mattress, sitting down obediently while Sam moved the laptop over to the empty bed and grabbed another pillow. Then Sam pushed him down gently, stacking two pillows underneath Dean's head and shoulders. Dean let Sam pull the sheets and comforter up over him, tucking the sides in carefully. Dean closed his eyes, seeing only the flash of lightning around a silhouette painted on the back of his eyelids.

Sam got under the sheets next to him, curling up beside Dean and placing a possessive hand over Dean's heart. Sam rested his head on the edge of Dean's double pillows, which he never slept with unless he was sleeping alone. But Sam knew he did it for a comfort thing, and apparently wanted Dean as comfortable as possible. Which was funny since Dean was fairly sure he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. At all. 

But he let his breathing steady out, conscious of the moment that Sam's legs wrapped over his relaxed into a heavy weight, the fingers of the hand on Dean's chest curling slightly. Sam fell asleep quickly, but Dean was restless for the rest of the storm. Every lightning flash outlined Cas's shape, and every thunder roll hid his voice, _Hello Dean_.

~*~*~*~

"Hey, so it's not just Americans who are vanishing. Uh, this guy, Luigi Ponzi disappeared walking between two subway cars in Rome. And right above ground, there was a freak hail storm." Dean splashed his face with water, his usual washing-face morning routine. This morning had definitely not had the same ricocheting affect of yesterday's morning. With everything that happened last night with Cas (or not-Cas), Dean was just not up for going at it before the sun was up. Sam was understanding, maybe a little strangely understanding. Dean decidely ignored all of Sam sympathetic soul-searching looks. Sam could think what he wanted about Dean and Cas, but Dean sure as hell wasn't going to comment on it.

"So, we going to Rome? City of Love. Wouldn't be too shabby." Dean could definitely use an overseas field trip right now. He hadn't been out of the country since Sam was last soulless. So for years. Because Purgatory wasn't exactly a country, and was _definitely_ not a vacation. And a vaycay with Sam of all people sounded especially nice right now. Who knows what kind of things they could discover in the City of Love. Then Sam's pretty voice broke Dean's train of thought.

"Actually, Paris is the City of Love. Rome is normally called the Eternal City." Dean made a frowny face as he let the last of the water drain from his hands. 

"Well hey, we can be Eternal too." Dean reached up and grabbed a little towel, patting it on his face. "We should go." 

Dean looked up at the mirror, towel in his hand. His reflection gaped at him, at the second person reflecting against the glass. Holy fucking shit. Castiel's reflection shone back at Dean, and for a millisecond, Dean thought he was dreaming. Then imagining things. Then going crazy. Then maybe Cas was fucking here. Dean spun around, and there he was. Still. For the first time, Cas didn't disappear. He was here. And real, in the flesh. Dean could see the specks of blood and grime and dirt covering his features, the scruffy dark beard covering his face and the tattered trenchcoat hanging dejectedly and tired from his shoulders. 

"Hello, Dean."

Dean couldn't even say anything, he just stared. Dean heard the scrape of Sam's chair across the motel floor, the slam of the laptop closed. But Dean couldn't turn his eyes away from the breathtakingly perfect _real_ angel standing in front of him. Dean knew his mouth was open, water dripping off a few spikes in his hair. Dean was clutching the poor bathtowel in a death grip that would surely have shredded it if he had nails. _Hello, Dean._

"Cas." It was a question and a prayer and an answer and an entire world wrapped up in one word. Cas nodded his head, just once, confirming that yes, it was him. 

"Dean? Are you o-...Cas?!" Sam swung into sight, hand on the gun tucked in the back of his pants, his mouth dropped open in shock and surprise. Dean looked at Sam for a fleeting second before returning his gaze to the angel. Dean didn't pull Cas into his arms, make sure he was real. Cas wasn't real. He couldn't be. Something was wrong, very very wrong. 

Maybe it was their "profound bond." Dean was standing here, staring at Cas and communicating with him in the most effective way possible for them. Although quite a bit further apart than Dean was used to. But for some reason their bond wasn't sparking like it usually did when Cas was in the room. And now that Cas was here, Dean should be elated. He was just confused. And hurt. Like he was being lied to, like something was so so incredibly off and he had no idea what.

Suddenly Sam was celebrating, clapping Cas on the back and ushering him over to sit down at the table. Dean dropped the towel to the floor and stepped over it, following them out numbly. Cas kept throwing glances over his shoulder at Dean on his way to sit down. Dean kept back a few feet, like maybe touching Cas might make him break. Dean, that is. He had been through so much physical and mental pain over the past 24 hours over Cas, and now it was all getting slammed in his face and Dean was numb. Entirely numb. Something was _wrong_.

"Unbelievable, man. I-I cannot believe it. You're actually here." Sam was excited as hell, happy and cheerful and probably really relieved that Dean wasn't going crazy and hallucinating a dead boyfriend. Or whatever Sam thought Cas was to Dean. _His angel, that's what._

"Yeah, I've been trying to reach out, but for whatever reason, I wasn't at full power. So I couldn't connect with you." Cas kept his eyes trained towards Dean, occassionally glancing at Sam but Dean wasn't fooled. This conversation was directed towards him. Dean leaned against the wall dividy thing and just stared at Cas. There was no fucking way this was happening. And not in a girly, omg this isn't happening right now thing. As in it was _physically impossible_ for Cas to be here. Literally no fucking way. Purgatory? There wasn't...nope.

"That must have been why you kept seeing him. I mean, you think?" Any other time Dean might have commented on Sam's eager puppy face but he just barely glanced over at him, just barely noticed his words. He had a lot of other things on his mind right now that kind of trumped Sam's excitement level. Besides, Dean already knew he was seeing Cas, it was Sam who needed convincing, not Dean.

"Yeah. Yeah, uh, I got to be honest. I-I-I'm thinking, how the hell did you make it out? I mean, I – I was there. I-I-I know that place. I know how we had to scratch and claw and kill and bleed to find that portal and make it through it, and it almost finished me." Sam shot Dean a glance at that. Dean looked back a tad guiltily. So yeah, okay, he hadn't told Sam how close to dead he'd come. There was no point, Sam was unstable enough when Dean first saw him as it was. "So, uh... so how exactly are you sitting here with us right now?"

Cas looked up at him, his eyes sad and drooping, but almost guilty looking. His voice came out just like how Dean remembered it, the same low vibration. But the tone was all wrong. It was like Castiel was reading off a teleprompter or something. Dean had seen enough politicians talk to know what scripted speech looked like, and this felt exactly like that. But why the hell would Cas be making up stories? Was Cas lying to them? Would Cas lie to Dean?

"Dean, everything you just said is completely true. And that's the strange part. I... have no idea. I remember endlessly running and hiding from Leviathan, and then I was on the side of the road in Illinois. And... that was it." Cas set his mouth in a slightly apologetic line, like he wished he had more for Dean. Dean just raised his eyebrows, not even able to come back with anything to say that summed up how he felt. How freaking weird this entire thing was. There was no way...

"And that – that was it?" 

"Yes." Dean just stood. Sam was looking back and forth between him and Cas, clearly he finally got the memo that something was up. Even though he was giving Dean this mother hen-y worried look that made Dean want to point at Cas and shout, _no, it's him! worry about him_. Because lord knows Dean was. Good things didn't happen in the world, and they certainly didn't happen to Winchesters. And that meant they **never** happened to Dean. He just leaned and looked, taking in Cas. He was all here, no telltale red angel handprints on his arm to brand into him, to sear into his heart and mind for all of eternity. Just, Purgatory filth. Cas must had noticed Dean looking (he was not checking Cas out nope) because he suddenly looking down at his own attire, clearing his throat.

"Oh. I'm dirty." It was such a simple Cas thing to say, back about three years ago when Cas was finally adapting to normality. Dean wouldn't coo over it, and he certainly wasn't going to comment on the way it normally would have made him blush if he wasn't so caught up in...everything.

"Yeah, well, Purgatory will do that to you." Sam looked between them again, maybe finally starting to realize there was a hell of a lot that Sam didn't know about Purgatory. Which was fine, Dean would like to keep it that way. Sam was finally back in a good place with Dean again, and now Cas was here and Dean had no idea what that meant for the future. For everything. Dean and Cas hadn't exactly been innocent in the months they'd been together in Purgatory. They hadn't had sex or anything, Cas was still a virgin, there hadn't exactly been time for a little outdoorsy sex picnic with monsters trying to rip you to shreds 24/7.

Cas stood up and walked past Dean towards the bathroom. Dean turned his head, following Cas with his gaze until he disappeared entirely. There was no point in being discreet, either. It wasn't like everyone in this room didn't know how damn overwhelmed Dean was right now.

Dean replayed the scene in his mind, saw it flash before his eyes like it was yesterday. Finding the crease in the edge of the world that would take them out of that godforsaken (literally) place. Dean must have totally been out of it, because when Sam said his name, he nearly jumped, looking over at his very concerned brother's face.

"Huh?"

"You all right?" Dean started over to the table, taking in Sam's worry and concern, the way his arm twitched like he wanted to reach out and grab Dean and was afraid of it. Really though, it was just like before. Sam didn't want to scare Dean off, to trigger any sort of painful flashback. He had no experience with how this whole Cas and Purgatory thing worked, so he'd been reluctant to touch Dean at first last night too. The last thing they both needed was for Dean to shut Sam out. Dean just thought maybe Sam was thinking about it all, thinking about how maybe Dean had left Cas to die. It had to cross Sam's mind once, right? 

But Dean sank into the chair across from Sam regardless, automatically letting his foot find its way around Sam's ankle. Dean had to make sure he wasn't going crazy. He needed Sammy on his side for this one.

"You do see something severely wrong here, right? Sammy, I remember every second of leaving that place. I mean, I remember the – the heat, the stink, the pain, the fear. I have that whole ugly mess..." Dean tapped his head, pointedly raising his eyebrows at Sam, "...right here, and he says he has no idea how he got out? I – I'm just not buying it."

"So what, you think he's lying?" Sam was quick and sure in believing him, and it restored a spark of faith in Dean. So Dean wasn't crazy after all, maybe.

"I'm saying something else happened. I saw the shape that he was in. I mean, there was no way he was fighting his ass out alone. No way."

"All right. So, who... or what got him out?" As much as Dean would have liked for Cas to have gotten out when he did, Dean felt a tug of relief that Cas came back when he and Sam were a team again. If Cas had been topside during the weeks Sam and Dean had been fighting, Dean could only imagine how chaotic that would have been. Dean had a tendency to run towards the angel if he was running from Sam. Without the death threat of Purgatory's finest over there heads, Dean and Cas would have had no reason not to sleep together. Who knows what that would've done to Dean and Sam's relationship. Talk about serious permanent damage. 

"Exactly." The last few times there had been mysterious resurrections among them, it had resulted in angels and his brother without a soul. Who knows what kind of thing has the juice to pull a celestial being out of the darkest corner of nonexistence.

Castiel walked out of the bathroom, and Dean's head snapped over to him. Cas was now wearing his suit and tie under the trenchcoat, which was actually clean. All of the scruff from his face was gone, and his hair was sinfully fluffy, brushed upwards in a sort of coiff. Cas had always been attractive, but seeing him like this? It was like a shiny new penny, preened and scrubbed to a beautiful perfection that reminded Dean of simpler, more youthful times.

It was like seeing Cas for the first time again, Dean could practically see the shower of sparks coming down from the barn's ceiling somewhere in Pontiac, Illinois. Except this time, Dean's stomach didn't flutter with a tingling sensation with a confused and embarrassed blush on his cheeks. This time, Dean's stomach coiled in a hot spring, his entire body was suddenly warm. Especially the parts controlled by his downstairs brain.

"Better?" Cas asked all innocently. Dean adjusted himself in his chair, very suddenly aware of his growing erection. 

Sam picked now of all times to shoot Dean a look, an affectionate "maybe everything is going to be okay" look. Dean attempted to turn his bewildered, turned on expression into pleasant surprise. Apparently it was a close enough attempt because Sam looked content and turned back to Cas. 

Dean let his eyes slide back to the angel too, scanning down his body graciously. Then Dean met Cas's eyes, swallowing the sound that was teetering at the edge of his mouth. Dean nodded tightly instead, giving Cas an answer to his question. Better, definitely better. 

The edge of Dean's mouth curved up in an attempt at a smile that was faltered by the rush of blood to his lower extremities, and Dean had to clench his hand together tightly in an attempt to calm himself. Now was an extremely inconvienent time for his jeans to be tenting so obviously, and there was probably a lot of obvious worry regarding that subject written all over Dean's face. 

Everyone must have taken it as worry over Cas's reappearance, because no one questioned Dean. And somehow, neither of them noticed Dean's little downstairs dilemma. Probably because only seconds after nodding to Cas, Dean bolted up and brushed past him before he or Sam could say anything else, practically running to the bathroom and locking the door behind him. 

Dean leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes, focusing on breathing, in out in out slower and slower. This was so not good. He'd just gotten back together with Sam again, and now this? Dean rushed forward to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm his mind as well as his racing heartbeat. Dean would have to get rid of his erection the old fashioned way, because now would be a really bad time to jerk off, with the two problematic boys just behind the door, and both if them more than acutely aware to Dean's actions. 

They were both so tuned in to Dean, they'd notice the second Dean's hand would wrap around his cock. Dean gripped the sink basin, dropping his head and taking measured breaths. They were tuned in in different ways, Sam being tied to Dean with this physical palpable thing, and through the etched mark of their shared soul. Which meant he'd be busted in three seconds flat. Cas had a mental tether to Dean, that felt like it was quite a few steps beyond normal mind reading. Cas had the backstage pass to all things Dean, and he was a celestial being too, which always helped. 

God, these next few hours, days, whatever, we're going to be interesting as hell.

~*~*~*~*~

Cas was standing next to Dean, heat rolling off him in waves. The heat was probably some sort of aftermath to Cas's glow ordeal. Dean had seen the brilliant light underneath the locked door earlier, so he knew Cas had gone all angelic wrath on Crowley's ass. Dean threw a gun into the trunk, thinking back to how worried he'd been, thinking he was going to lose Cas again in those few minutes they were separated by the heavy door. If anything had happened...

"That was a bonehead move back there. You could have gotten yourself killed. Why didn't you wait for me?" Dean's voice was pissed but he had a right. If Cas had just waited, Dean's heart wouldn't have jumped in his throat, he wouldn't have gone through those flashback again, of Cas's fingers slipping out of his, falling and falling.

"Well, I didn't get killed. And it worked." Cas had carefully avoided Dean's question, just like he carefully avoided meeting Dean's eyes, not giving him any sort of reason as to why he couldn't wait for Dean.

"And if it didn't?" 

"It would have been my problem." Cas finally turned to Dean, his words firm and serious. That wasn't fair. Cas couldn't go all rogue angel, there were other people who had definite interest in Cas's problems. 

"Well, that's not the way I see it." How could Cas say his potential death wasn't Dean's problem? They were best friends after all. And best friends didn't leave their best friend to die. _You already did that once, remember, Dean?_

"Hey, everything isn't your responsibility." Cas paused, looking so directly at Dean it felt like Cas was trying to push his words down into Dean's soul. "Getting me out of Purgatory wasn't your responsibility."

It was, though. That was the entire reason Dean had been down there a year. _Where's the angel?_ Dean had only had a couple of weeks on his own before Benny showed up, then it took them a few months to dig their way through the blood and guts and monsters to get to Cas. Then a couple more months to find the portal. And then Dean had failed, he'd failed the mission he'd had since the moment he got tossed in there and Cas had disappeared. Dean had failed to get them out.

"You didn't get out. So whose fault was it?" If Dean had held on tighter, waited to get into the portal until Cas was secure in his arms...

"It's not about fault. It's about will. Dean, do you really not remember?" Dean laughed shortly, no humor behind the pain in his eyes that reflected the pain of that memory. Does he not remember. Like Dean hadn't been remembering every damned day, the scene playing over and over again like a broken record in his mind. 

"I lived it, Cas. Okay, I know what happened."

"No. No, you think you know." Cas turned his head, looking like he was contemplating, like he had just discovered something curious. "You remembered it the way you needed to."

That's it. Dean had done everything he could and he hadn't, couldn't save Cas. Dean stepped forward angrily, closing half the distance between them in one stride. 

"Look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay?" It felt more like a confession than an accusation. Cas was so close, close enough that Dean could reach out and take his hand, the one he'd failed so miserably to take.

"For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it!" Dean was shouting, but he meant it. Every word. He cared about Cas, god he cared about Cas, and now it was out loud and real and large and there, and it was never going away. 

"Dean." Cas sounded patient, forgiving like this wasn't all Dean's fault. Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Just look at it. Really look at it."

Cas reached up two fingers, which Dean automatically shied away from before he met Cas's eyes, saw the pleading and the need there, and Dean held still while Cas zapped them back, back to that scene Dean had seen so many times. 

Except this one was all different. Dean had his hand on Cas's and the real Dean winced with anticipation, already feeling the slide of Cas's hand out of his. Except it didn't happen. No, instead, Cas threw Dean's hand, rejecting him back and away. _Go!_

Dean opened his eyes again, Cas's hand retreating from his forehead. Dean's entire world was reeling, and he was stuck between not being able to breathe and not being able to lift his gaze. Dean just stared at nothing, open mouthed and unbelieving.

"See, it wasn't that I was weak. I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn't want to be saved."

 _Pontiac, Illinois: "You don't think you deserve to be saved"_. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean was looking at Cas now, processing, all processing. 

"It's where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there." _No._ Dean could do nothing but blink and breathe, his lungs heaving his entire chest, his lips still parted in disbelief. Cas, his Cas, throwing away his life, suicidal and just under Dean's nose. Dean wanted to shout, scream, cry, hold Cas in his arms and kissed his stupid face all over until he saw how much he was worth, until he promised to never try to end himself again.

"I... I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you." He'd planned it. Cas had put methodical thought into how he was going to leave Dean. He spent time thinking of how he was going to abandon Dean to a lifetime of guilt and screaming nightmares. 

"You can't save everyone, my friend... though, you try." Dean's lips parted again, and he looked down at the ground. Oxygen was trying to evade him again. Dean opened his mouth, ready to say something. Maybe something that would change everything forever.

"Hey." Sam's voice interrupted whatever was ready to spill out of Dean's mouth. Dean looked up quickly and briefly, readjusting his body posture and doing a mental check to make sure there weren't tears rolling down his face. Nope, thankfully dry. Sam was looking at him like his eyes were spilling over tsunamis, though. Like somehow Sam could see the invisible tears.

"Everything okay?" Directed towards Dean's invisible tears. Dean didn't look up, he just kept his head turned shyly away, focusing on oxygen and not crying. Sam was looking at Dean like he was on a Petri dish, under a microscope. Dean didn't look back. He wasn't going to answer Sam's question, Dean had no idea what his voice would show everyone, let alone the words that might come tumbling out of his mouth.

"Yeah." Castiel's voice broke the heated silence. Dean shifted his weight, his mind running over every word Cas had just said, cataloging it and analyzing and Dean needed to know exactly why because Dean had to fix it. He needed to be the one to fix Cas for once.

"Just, uh... setting a few things straight." That sounded suspiciously coupley and Dean was suddenly glad he and Sam hadn't redefined their relationship as dating or not. Because Dean could not handle that on top of...all this. 

"Good. Garth is gonna lay low with the Trans and try to track down the other piece. You're with us on this one, right, Cas? Cas, you okay?" Dean was fairly sure neither of them were listening to Sam's ramble, but Dean did look up at Cas's name, looked over to see the angel spacing out as hardcore as Dean was. Was Cas thinking the same thoughts running through Dean's mind? That would explain the bewildered, overwhelmed expression.

"I'm – I'm fine." _Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional._ Yes, Dean was fine too. "And, yes, I'm with you – if that's all right."

Cas looked over at Dean, asking permission carefully, not letting too much show I'm the crystal blue eyes that felt like a thousand pounds on Dean's gaze. Dean took a few seconds to register, then he blinked, feeling four heavy eyes on him. Dean nodded, like he was saying "of course" and "I guess" at the same time. Then he dropped his eyes from Cas's again. Dean was never planning on saying no, but nodding felt all the more strange anyways.

Cas took the one as his queue to give them some space, stepping away and walking off far enough that Dean and Sam got the illusion of privacy. Dean followed Cas's form with his eyes, then stood in his shock, still looking down, still processing. Sam took a baby step closer to Dean, crowding Dean's silence with his body.

"It is, right? You two are good?" It was such an odd question, for his soulmate to be inquiring about the man he loved that had just broken his heart. Sam held no judgement, he'd known for a long time how Dean felt about Cas. Probably longer than Dean knew. 

Sam was close but tentative to touch Dean. Dean didn't look up, didn't meet Sam's eyes. Not even when he breathed out his answer. 

"Yeah." Sam was silent in response, just standing, just being present like he hoped that might be enough of a comfort. Maybe it was. At least a little bit anyways. 

With the three of them now, there wouldn't be alone time. With anyone. This would probably be the last time they could do anything for who knows how long. Dean knew Sam had observed this too, he could feel the sparking tension of Sam's lust, his hot desire to touch Dean.

Dean tilted his chin up a little, his eyes still not on Sam's, but obediently expecting a kiss. Sam stepped a little closer, their bodies only inches away. Dean waited, patiently, feeling Sam's eyes on his face, trying to tear him apart, write him down, shove this emotion in some box with a sharpie label on the lid. Dean stood still for a few minutes before he realized that maybe a kiss wasn't coming. That thought was surprising, and Dean finally broke his reserve and looked up at Sam.

Sam was looking at him gently now, like Dean was a delicate glass figurine that might break from breathing on it. Dean really really wished that Sam would grab Dean already, squeeze his hands tight on Dean's biceps and shove him up against the car, attack his mouth with teeth and tongue, make him bruise, make him _feel it_. Sam just stood, an inch away, looking down at Dean but somehow looking over him too. Dean felt small, he wanted Sam to push him, use him, break a table or the bed or something. Anything besides this stupid caring affectionate worried gaze Sam was giving him.

Then Sam's fingertips gently brushed Dean's hip and Dean fluttered his eyes closed. Sam's hand slowly engulfed Dean's hip, wrapping gently around his bone like a golden retriever's mouth on its prey. Sam's hand just held him there, solid and in place. His other hand stayed resting at his side, the only movement being the rhythmic slide of Sam's thumb over Dean's hip, back and forth like he was soothing him. Dean was torn between being grateful for the minimalistic touch and feeling cheated, like he wasn't getting enough. Sam didn't advance his touch any, just stayed with one hand on Dean's hip for a few minutes. Dean wasn't going to be the one to break away or break the silence, but Sam's voice eventually did.

"Do you wanna drive?" It wasn't soft and gentle like his touch, which was good, because Dean hated being treated like a three year old. Sam's thumb kept sliding back and forth through his question.

"You can." Dean's eyes were open now, but he looked at the ground instead of Sam. Today had just been too overwhelming to engage in some silent conversation about his feelings with his brother. And that was sure to happen if he looked at Sam. 

Since Dean was looking at the ground, he saw Sam's other hand move before he felt it. Sam brought his other hand up to Dean's waist, and Dean figured maybe Sam was going for a hug. Sam's thumb had stilled, so he was just holding Dean now. But then his arm didn't wrap around Dean's back like expected, it just stopped at Dean's jacket pocket, dipping inside and snagging the keys. 

Then Sam's touch was gone, a final clap on Dean's shoulder as he walked over to the driver's side of the car. Dean felt suddenly cold, but let his feet take him to the shotgun door. Sam called out to Cas, who was standing off a little ways, looking towards the factory. The angel turned around and hurried over, actually walking instead of flying or zapping himself. He must still be pretty drained, Cas didn't walk much. Dean sat in his seat in shotgun in silence, listening to the growl of the engine as Sam turned the key, to the quiet music playing out of the radio, to Sam's and Cas's broken pieces of conversation, here and there. 

Dean fell asleep against the window, deciding that everything was going to be normal when he woke up. He'd take care of Cas, he'd take care of Sam, just like he was supposed to. Sometimes all someone needed was a simple reboot, and sleeping was the best way to do that. All of the confusion and pain would be buried deep by the time Dean next opened his eyes, and he could get on with his life, stop acting like a girl.

And Sam and Cas could stop treating him like one.


	99. Discommoding (Hunteri Heroici 08x08)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Destiel. But Wincest too cos obvs. and I think I attempted at funny? ish? a little?

Sam was absolutely not keeping a running tally in his head.

And Cas was absolutely not configuring a logarithm with possible outcomes based on a number of totaled events from the day.

Except they both really were.

It didn't start out that way, but it tumbled into ridiculous pretty quickly. At first, when Dean folded himself into shotgun, Sam assumed he'd be silent and stiff, staring out the window the entire ride to wherever. So when Dean curled up and fell asleep against the window before Sam even hit the freeway, he was actually quite surprised. Dean had this habit where he hated falling asleep in front of anyone but Sam, something about looking stupid and feeling vulnerable.

Even when Dean had spent a year with Lisa, it had taken him a long time to fall asleep around her. For the first night, the one Sam had seen from the window, Dean slept on the couch, brushing off all of Lisa's requests to sleep somewhere more comfortable. Sam hadn't left his soulless post by the window until he'd seen Dean cry himself into a fitful sleep, even that only lasted an hour or two, and was probably purely because his body was so exhausted. Dean hadn't told Sam much about his year with Lisa and Ben, but Sam had managed to piece together an idea of how the sleeping arrangements probably went.

Dean probably spent the first week like that night Sam saw, tiredly rejecting Lisa's nightly offers to sleep in her bed. Then Dean probably snapped at her once, and she'd leave him alone for another week. Then Sam would bet she came downstairs in something sexy and coaxed Dean upstairs that way, figuring he'd sleep better if he was sex-sated. Dean May have finally caved and gone alone with it, or maybe he'd flat out refused Lisa's offer. Or maybe he refused to sleep with her but caved on sleeping in a bed. Sam would probably never know. And eventually, Dean would be sure to warm up to Lisa enough to fall asleep in her bed after sex, then eventually just fall asleep beside her because it was his bed too. Sam was willing to bet it took the better part of the year before that happened, though.

So based on Dean's track record of refusing to fall asleep unless it was after a hookup (sometimes not even then, Dean had stumbled into the motel room at 3am more often than not) made Sam look over at him concernedly when he was out cold in two minutes. Sam had glanced in the rear view at Cas, who yeah, was still there. So apparently, Dean didn't mind sleeping in front of Cas. Which was really really strange. And honestly made Sam a little suspicious, if not jealous.

If Dean didn't mind this one thing with Cas, how many other things were Dean and Cas close on? Probably a discommoding number. Which may have been the start of Sam's tally in his head, his reason for counting the number of times Dean approved of Cas, complimented him, or did something to make Sam's stomach turn with jealousy. He'd keep a tally for himself too, although he stopped just short of writing each mark down. That made it feel childish (even though it totally was anyways).

~*~*~

 

Sam won tally mark #1. Dean came out of the gas station with two beers in hand, popping the top off of both and handing one to Sam. Sam took it with a smile, a little guiltily triumphant that Dean had brought out two even though there were three of them at this party. Maybe it was simply habit, or maybe Dean just wanted it to be the two of them. Either way, Sam checked it off with a grin.

>  
> 
> Cas was an angel after all, he had a very high observation rate. So yes, he noticed he didn't get a beer. One x on Sam's side of the equation. But he also noticed Dean's annoyed frown at Sam as Sam said chipperly,
> 
> "Dean's here, he wants to talk to you." Dean got this irked look on his face and shot Sam a glare. One x for Cas's side. Dean took the phone and made some terribly rude remark before snapping it shut and tossing it back at his brother. So, they were even.
> 
>  

Sam may have been mentally competing with the angel for Dean's affections, but he couldn't deny, it was fairly adorable when Cas beamed and announced he was going to be a hunter. Even better, though, was his comment afterwords.

"I can be your third wheel!" Third wheels were tag alongs for people in relationships. So not only did Cas see Sam and Dean as an item, apparently Dean did too, because he didn't bother explaining to Cas what a third wheel was, or correct him and say that he and Sam weren't together. Instead, Dean had gotten this vaguely concerned look and said

"You do realize that's not a good thing, right?" As in Dean didn't want a third wheel. Which would mean _Dean_ saw them as a couple too. 2 for Sam.

 

> So Cas may not have had his hunting idea embraced with open arms, but Dean did raise his eyebrows and seem genuinely impressed. Another x for Cas, he impressed Dean. It was a pretty rare occurance, and maybe other people would consider it irrelevant, but it was the entire world to Cas. Just being the cause of a single grin on Dean's beautifully sculpted face was more than enough for Cas.
> 
> Then it got even better. They'd agreed to take the hunt, and when Cas has automatically said he'd meet them there, planning on flying because it was way easier and faster and more efficient, Dean had stopped him.
> 
> "Wait, Cas, Cas! If you want to play cowboys and bloodsuckers, that's fine. But you're gonna stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around crap. Capiche?" Wait. Dean wanted Cas to stay? With them? There would be positively no benefit to that for any of them. Except apparently it was what Dean wanted. Cas peered at him for a moment, trying to figure out why. He came up with no good validation.
> 
> "Yeah, I capiche." If he seemed overzealous, Dean might change his mind. Although inwardly Cas was smiling a lot and checking himself off to 3 x's. Dean wanted him around. For no reason, just for Cas to be present. It might have been the first time Cas wasn't needed, just wanted. So of course he was on a high point when he'd pushed his luck a bit.

 

"Can I, uh, at least ride in the front seat?"

 

Dean answered with a loud and forceful "No." in tandem with Sam's. Sam bit back his triumphant grin, just swinging the shotgun door open and climbing into his rightful seat. Okay, so his shoulder had brushed Cas's on the way in and maybe it was a dick move. And maybe Cas's face had sank at their perfectly timed, forceful unison. But Sam was secretly joyed regardless. Dean had totally just defended Sam's spot. Without hesitation. Totally ignoring Cas's puppy dog eyes in favour of the natural order of how things should be. Sam gets shotgun. Period.

Sam was smiling for at least the next ten minutes, with 3 tallies on his side already. This was going to be a wonderful day.

~*~*~*~

 

Dean wasn't entirely oblivious to what was going on, but he had no idea to the extent. He had noticed plenty of sideglances between Sam and Cas, like they were somehow evaluating each other. Dean may not be as bright as the two of them, but he was fairly sure he knew a reason why. They were both...significant males in his life whom he had spent a significant amount of time with his tongue in their mouths.

Oh god.

Just surviving these next 24 hours was going to be crazy on their own, but when you added in the looney bin fact that a guy's heart jumped out of his chest? Well damn.

Dean normally liked attention, yeah, but who didn't? However he was getting the distinct impression that maybe the attention he was getting from both Sam and Cas was kind of objectified. They were practically giving each other war-glances and Dean felt like some dolled up prize they were fighting over. It made him feel...girly. In a really not good way. Not that there was a good way for Dean to feel girly, but yeah. It was like he was some chick that the hot jock and the adorable art major were trying to woo. It was making Dean's head spin and he felt like he was losing what minor masculinity he had retained every time one of them shoved in front of the other or interrupted each other for Dean's attention. Dean was not just some pretty green eyed cheerleader that batted her eyelashes at two boys and let them go at each other.

Oh god even his thoughts were getting girly.

Then, of course, the (actually surprisingly awesome) cop they were working the case with had to take a phone call, leaving them alone with the body in the morgue. On her way out, she'd managed to stop in front of Dean, a sassy sidegrin on her face.

"Whatever you say, Scully."

Scully. Scully? Why was Dean the girl? _Dean was not the girl_. He was not a cranky red-headed woman, that was Sam. Sam was Scully and Dean was Mulder, because they went together, and wait. Who did she think was Mulder? Dean turned his head and watched her leave, then quickly turned back to the body. It was somehow really important and Dean really wanted to know who the cop assumed he was with. He didn't know why, but. ugh. It'd be valuable information. For what? He had no idea. But really, Scully? Again?

 

"Well now I know everything there is to know about him."

"Did you know he was having an affair?"

"What?"

"Strike one, Sherlock." Dean turned to Cas and they locked eyes. They stared for a moment before Dean's gaze shot to Sam then looked down guiltily. 

Tally number four. Yeah, so Sam had found actual relevant evidence, but he wasn't even going to count that one, because it really didn't have anything to do with Dean. But the strike one, sherlock? And the guilty turn away? Sam couldn't help but write that down as a Sam-won-this-battle. As much as Cas had on him "powers" wise, Sam still was a better agent and Dean noticed. So ha.

"The guy was living a lie and it came back to bite him in the ticker. But nice job on that bladder infection." Seeing Dean with Cas, little looks that reminded Sam that they had had a year together, a year apart from Sam, was messing with his head a little. Sam couldn't help but think back to his year too, something he hadn't let himself think about lately, but how he could he forget with what Dean had just said? _The guy was living a lie and it came back to bit him in the ticker._

It was funny how the second Sam heard that he thought of Amelia. He'd never really analyzed her, them, enough to think about it. Had it been a lie? Had Sam been living a lie, and was that why he left with a broken heart? It would explain why he was flashbacked to her memory when he heard those words. It wasn't like flashbacks just randomly appeared, they came for a reason. So maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Maybe Amelia had just been Sam lying to himself. Had she?

 

The car ride to interviewing the witness had been awkwardly quiet until Dean turned on Zeppelin. Which, of course, had to be that one stupid song Sam hated about the guy cheating and being in love with two people and Sam would seriously have turned it off if it hadn't been suspicious. As it was, he just gritted his teeth every time Plant sputtered out something about _you messed up my happy home_. Not saying Cas was messing up anything, there definitely hadn't been a point yet like that. And it wasn't like Sam was going to go all stupid ultimatum on Dean like "choose Cas or me" because he wouldn't even consider that. It was two different relationships, and Dean needed both of them. But Sam did not mind keeping track of just how much.

Sam reached tally number 5 quite royally. He did his best not to fuck up the rest of the investigation, but it was hard to keep the ecstatic grin off of his face.

"What? I was being bad cop."

"You were being bad everything."

"Please, forgive my partner, he's uh. Going through some stuff." Like trying to win over my not-boyfriend who also happens to be his not-boyfriend. Yeah, the whisper was a low blow, but Sam figured Cas would get the message.

"Listen to Sam." Oh bingo bingo we have a winner. Sam nearly lost his composure right there, mentally shouting his battle victory. Hahaha, that was tally 5 and Sam was totally on top of the world. Although they were supposed to be seriously investigating their witness (that Cas could've totally just blew) and Sam needed to focus. The interview ended up getting interrupted anyways, someone knocking on the door. Sam sighed as the wife stood to go receive whatever visitor that may be.

"Olivia? As in mistress Olivia?"

 

> Dean turned to Cas as he said that, and Cas leaned in a bit too, to respond. Maybe he could get a little better at this. Because right now, Sam's x's were definitely beating Cas's.
> 
> "That he was sleeping with her." Cas just stated the obvious, pointing over at the mistress. Sam and Dean both looked at him, their faces void of anything but surprise. And maybe annoyance too. What? Cas had just said the truth.
> 
> It turned out to be helpful too, the wife "Deb" announcing that yes, she knew her husband was sleeping with another woman. And apparently she had been sleeping with another man. Cas was busy rollng that over in his head, deciding whether or not that would be viewed as blasphemy, since it was consensual, although it was technically breaking their vows, when Dean leaned over and spoke quietly.
> 
> "Freaking suburbs, man."
> 
> "So she's not a witch..."
> 
> "The best wife _ever_." Cas and Sam both turned to Dean. Cas processed it quickly, what that meant. So, Dean thought the best wife ever was one who let her husband sleep with other people. Who she herself slept with other people. Did that mean that Dean thought the best kind of relationship was one where he wasn't tied down? Where he got the option to sleep with other people too? Did it mean that Dean was interested in sleeping with people outside of Sam? People like Cas? Although Cas wasn't necessarily a "people," he was an angel. But Dean did seemed pretty stoked about the idea of this..."open" relationship.
> 
> Cas wasn't sure if he was overanalyzing, but it was actually a fairly simple observation. Cas chalked it down to an x on his side, because even if it wasn't Cas that Dean wanted to sleep with outside of Sam, he still apparently appreciated the idea of being able to without consequence. So, Cas had 4 x's now. And Dean had a wicked grin on his face.
> 
> As lovely as the new information was though, it didn't get them any closer to solving the man with the ejected heart's mystery.
> 
> "But what killed her husband?"
> 
> "Who gives a fuck?"
> 
> Yep. Dean liked the idea of open relationships. Or maybe he just found it amusing. Either way, Dean seemed to like the idea of liberation. They were Team Free Will after all.

~*~*~*~

When they got back in the motel room after visiting the sight of the jumper who got cartoonified, Dean was first to open the door, holding it open while Sam and Cas came inside. Sam tossed his duffel and backpack onto the spare bed and took out his laptop, propping it open on the table and pulling up a chair. Dean dumped his bags on top of Sam's, making a mini-mountain of their stuff. If they still slept in separate beds, they wouldn't make such a mess, instead maybe propping a single duffel on the edge of a bed, the rest of the stuff going to the floor. It would just be too much of a hassle to move everything off the bed after getting back late for a hunt, keeping it all organized while they moved it, so they could find it in the morning or bolt in the night if they needed to. They only really left their stuff in that mountain when they knew they wouldn't have to move it off the bed. 

Cas sat down, perched at the edge of the luggage bed, looking down at his hands. Dean froze, looking at Cas, on the bed with enough room next to him for Dean to sit. More like Cas had intentionally left a Dean-sized space for Dean to come to. Then Dean turned his head to Sam, who was sitting in the uncomfortable motel chairs at the table, already opening up a Chrome to do research. Sam watched Dean though, as did Cas. 

It was really insignificant and childish in the scheme of things (he sat next to me in science, not you, [insert little girl laugh here]) but for some reason Sam felt like maybe it mattered. A little, at least. Then Dean unfroze and walked over, plopping down in the hardbacked chair across from Sam. Tally number 6. 

The three of them settled in, Sam taking off his jacket and tie, tossing them at the spare bed from his seat. Cas mentioned seeing these "Bugs Bunny" shows Dean was mentioning earlier. So Dean got up and gave Cas a brief lesson on how to change the volume on a TV and turn it off and such. Then Dean found him a channel that was somehow still playing cartoons at 11 o'clock at night. Then they all went about their various forms of research for a while. 

It was 12:30 before Dean finally closed Dad's journal, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

 

"Alright, well, I'm gonna call it. Cas, you gonna book a room or what?"

> Cas looked up at Dean, at the vaguely exhausted features. Cas had Dean's personals bag in his hands, and he was rummaging through it curiously. There wasn't much to see, just shaving cream and a toothbrush and such. Cas wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he just grabbed the nearest thing from Dean's bag to investigate. 
> 
> He had thought Dean might mind, that he might snap at Cas to "stay out of his stuff" like how Dean snapped at Sam. He didn't. Dean didn't say anything negative actually, he seemed entirely comfortable with Cas investigating his things. That was something Cas was pretty sure Sam might get punched over. Maybe it was just out of habit that they were brothers, or maybe it was because they lived in each other's pockets enough anyways. Either way, Cas's mouth tweaked up in a small smile. 5 x's for his side. It was a small battle won that only he (and maybe Sam, based on how observant he was being) would notice. But it was still a battle, and therefore it counted. 
> 
> "No, I'll stay here." Cas looked back down at Dean's bag, lifting a few things to see if there was anything hidden in the bottom. No, how boring.
> 
> "Oh, okay. Yeah. We'll have a slumber party, braid Sam's hair." Cas still wasn't great at sarcasm, he honestly didn't see the point, but Cas at least knew Dean well enough to know he would not be the type to suggest braiding Sam's hair. Cas looked up at him then, the look on Dean's face and Sam's little smirk confirmation that yes, Cas had guessed Dean's sarcasm correctly. Dean held Cas's gaze, his eyebrows furrowed in some strange emotion that felt something like either frustration or exasperation. Either way, not good. 

"Where are you gonna sleep?" Part of Dean was slightly terrified that Cas wouldn't catch the bitchy tone in his voice and actually take him _seriously_. Dean could only imagine that disaster, god. Dean would probably die again before he got caught _braiding Sam's hair._

Although honestly, this was about a lot more than the slumber party. This entire day had been extremely...frustrating and Dean seriously was in of some release. He could handle the occasional sexual tension from not being able to touch Sam when Garth was with them or something, but when he had all of that stupid tension on top of the sexual tension from not being able to touch _Cas?_ Dean was literally about to just go take care of this himself but it would be a major shame to jack off in the shower when there were two compliant men in his bedroom.

Only problem was, Dean was fairly sure now would be the worst possible time in the history of existence to bring up a threesome. Not that Dean exactly wanted one, either. Maybe eventually, one day, although he hadn't really though about it. Because two dicks Dean was okay with, he could survive that. But when there were three...that was basically as gay as it got. Besides, Dean hadn't slept with Cas, and their first time (if they had a first time, Dean tried not to think about Cas when he could refrain) couldn't be with Sam. Like, no. Cas deserved to lose his V Card (oh my god he still had that) in a way that mattered, not some cheap sex thing.

Anyways, Dean needed to either have sex with his not-boyfriend right now or at least pass out next to him all else fails. But neither of those options really included Cas being in the same room as them. The _Where are you going to sleep?_ was basically the biggest hint for Dean to nicely say "please leave us alone for four hours so I can fuck Sam and sleep, thank you." Cas just looked at him curiously though, like that was a ridiculous question of some sort.

"I don't sleep. And you and Sam share a bed, don't you?" Dean blinked and looked down in frustration. Not the point, Cas, dammit. This wasn't going to be as easy as Dean hoped it might. Sam was just making faces from where he was sitting, clearly amused by the whole situation. This was not fucking funny, okay? Dean was having a minor life crisis over here.

"Okay, well, yeah, but I need my four hours. And I'm not going to sle- _fall_ asleep with Sam when someone's in the next bed over. So..."

"I'll watch over you. You don't need to worry." Woah woah woah no. That sounded very creepily voyeuristic and while Dean was like 89% sure that wasn't how Cas meant it, there was still a stiffled giggle from Sam's side of the table. Dean would kick him but he figured the girliness of freaking giggling was probably a kick enough in itself. Dean lifted his hand up, pointing at Cas and trying to make the sternest face he could in the situation. Besides, Cas was over here making it sound like that was a regular thing, Cas watching Dean sleep. (Although it basically was, but Sam did not need to know that, because it was still weird for Dean, he can't imagine what Sam would say.

"That's not gonna happen." Cas looked at Dean annoyed for a moment before his face suddenly twisted and he stood up. Dean's first thought was _shit, he's going to kiss me, oh my god oh my god_ and then Cas stopped, putting his hand to his temple and squinting his eyes like he was listening really hard. Okay, so Dean was saved (from humiliation and explaining that to Sam and not pushing Cas back on the bed and kissing him back like they were in Purgatory again and all Dean wanted to do was slam Cas up against a tree and attack his mouth). Hallelujah. 

"Something's coming across the police band." Sam finally turned to look at the angel instead of Dean, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as his inner-celebration came to a halt. Sam had totally just scored tally #7, because Dean had _totally_ tried to kick Cas out to have alone time with him. Sam still felt a strange pull of compassion for Cas, he did love Dean too after all, but when it was little things like this, things that didn't really matter (well, kind of) Sam took what victories he could. Because there were a lot of cool things Cas could do that were actually being really helpful, whether Cas knew it or not. Like the fact that he just said something was coming across the police band.

"Wait, you can hear that?" Cas darted him a glance before answering the rest of the question in Dean's direction. 

"It's all waves... A bank has been robbed." Cas paused and tilted his head to the side. Which was pretty adorable, in a puppy sort of way. Cas reminded Sam a lot of a puppy, but Dean clearly didn't see him that way. Based off of the ridiculous intensity that Dean stared Cas down with. "It sounds loony."

"Define 'loony.'"

~*~*~*~

> "Wow, Cas, that police radio thing sure comes in handy." Dean was checking out the scene, too absorbed in the splatters of dead human to look at Cas, but he beamed anyways. Dean approved, and Cas was up to 6 x's now. Still behind Sam, but maybe he could catch up. Then suddenly Sam went with the cop lady, shooting Dean some silent conversation that Cas didn't pick up on. Dean followed Sam's back with his eyes until Sam was out the door, then he dipped his head down, pretending he hadn't. Well now it was just Dean and Cas. Cas's heart jumped at that thought, but he turned away from Dean in an attempt to not think about it. 
> 
> He had been casually leaning up against a wall when Dean caught his attention again. Cas was a little irked, he'd been doing a fairly efficient job of purifying thoughts and memories of Dean from the current situation of tumbling around his mind. 
> 
> "Hey. Can you lift this?" Dean looked at Cas expectingly, like he was assuming the answer was yes. Cas rolled his eyes but got up off the wall, walking in front of Dean. Everything suddenly felt like slow motion, each step closer to Dean bursting with energy, a sudden tension that Cas felt low in his body. His eyes crashed into Dean's, and Dean froze, like he was very aware of the energy too. Cas wasn't giving in that easy though, he stepped up closer in front of the anvil, his eyes still on Dean's. Until, that is, they betrayed him and swept down Dean's body, confirming the tug in Cas's gut that Dean was exactly as far away as he felt. Cas flicked his eyes back up, and Dean's pupils had dilated. Cas just turned around, bending down to get his hands on the metal. 
> 
> Cas felt Dean's eyes on him, actually on him though, instead of on the anvil. Like maybe Dean was checking him out the way Cas had seen Sam do to Dean a hundred times today. Cas suddenly felt a burst of something abandoned in his mind, and his mouth suddenly felt like it was on fire. Not in a bad way though, more like a really energetic warmth that was calling for him to take action. The anvil tipped to the ground, clattering loudly. Cas turned his head as he straightened up, seeing Dean's eyes flick away from him guiltily. Dean really had been looking at him, hadn't he? That made him even to Sam, 7 x's now. 
> 
> Their bodies were close when Cas stood up straight again, still smaller than Dean. Dean didn't bother to back up or give Cas room, even though there was plenty of space in here for them not to be standing inches away. Dean was actively ignoring the sparks filling those inches, and Cas stood silently and waited. Dean started talking the case, looking up at the ceiling and back down at the x on the floor. Huh. X. How ironic. Cas looked at it curiously as Dean spoke. 
> 
> Then they walked over to the black circle on the wall, Cas carefully attentive and as helpful as he could be. It wasn't until they were standing in front of the safe until Cas really let himself look at Dean. 
> 
> "Then why isn't it working now?" Cas touched the wall one more time, still finding it solid. Dean finally finished his ramblings, looking straight at Cas, their eyes locking and their bodies sixteen inches apart.
> 
> "I got no clue." The "clue" syllable had made Dean's mouth land in a slightly puckered "o."
> 
> Cas was pretty sure there was no creature in the world, human angel or other, who could stand this close to Dean and his slightly puckered lips and not do something about it. 
> 
> He actually stepped forward this time instead of blinking to Dean, it felt more real that way, more human. More like Dean. Dean's pupils dilated a little more as Cas closed the space between them. Cas wrapped his hand around the back of Dean's head, his fingers threading through Dean's hair as he watched the awareness seep into Dean's green eyes. 
> 
> Once, Cas had scoured the earth, flying from continent to continent nonstop, visiting Michealangelo's paintings, the darkest forests along the Amazon River, corals at the bottom of the Great Coral Reef, searching every place he could think of. Everything from nature to industries to art galleries to the darkest cave in the ocean. (He hadn't stayed there for long, there was a very annoyed great octopus trying to kill him.) He'd searched all over the world, but he could never find it. The colour, that perfect green of Dean's eyes. It wasn't anywhere. Not in any leaf, paint, or bug. Just Dean's eyes. That was it.
> 
> Before Dean could back away, or open his mouth for some reason other than what Cas wanted, Cas closed the rest of the distance between them. His chest pressed up against Dean's, his chin tilted up just a little to plant his lips against the curve of Dean's. Dean's eyes were closed and he was kissing Cas back much quicker than Cas had been expecting. Dean's hands wrapped around Cas's middle, almost like he was hugging Cas while they kissed. Cas would have pushed Dean up against the wall and kissed him like how he had learned once, but there was a large metal vault-lock on the nearest wall, and impaling Dean on that was not a good idea. 
> 
> So Cas just pulled Dean as closely as he could, smushing their mouths together and tilting his head to take in all of Dean's heat. Cas slid his tongue between Dean's lips, which quickly opened for him. Dean practically melted against Cas's mouth, his arms squeezing tighter around Cas's middle. Cas dipped his tongue to the edge where Dean's lips met, licking a delicate line that felt like a ridiculously stark contrast to the way their lips kept slamming and sliding against each other. 
> 
> Cas could kiss Dean like this forever, push his lips across Dean's over and over, taking Dean's mouth with his tongue, nipping at his pink lips softly, claiming him for the few seconds that Dean could be his. That thought, the sudden reminder that Dean was someone else's, made Cas falter for a moment against Dean's lips. It was just a moment's pause, during which Castiel could either draw back and away, or he could just kiss Dean deeper and make himself forget. 
> 
> Before Cas could make the decision (which was probably going to be the latter), Dean took advantage of Cas's sudden stutter, finally having a shot at some minute level of control, and tore his mouth away from Cas's. He gasped in air the second his mouth was free, his chest heaving against Cas's still one. Dean had his head dipped down, his temple resting against Cas's as he sucked oxygen back into his lungs, panting like he'd just ran a mile. Cas was just frozen in place, with Dean's arms wrapped around him, his hand still threaded through the short hair on the back of Dean's head.
> 
> It took a little while for Dean to be able to breathe normal again, during which Cas stood there and held the back of Dean's head, holding him as close as he could, eyes closed so he could savour every other sensation. Like the tingling that still hadn't left his mouth, the slight dampness across his top lip that belonged to Dean's lips. Or the smell of Dean, how he smelled a little like leather even when he wasn't wearing any. The way Dean's bicep muscle was tight against Cas's side, a hard line in contrast to the surprisingly soft grip. Dean's breathing finally evened out, and when he finally stopped shaking, Cas chanced speaking again. 
> 
> "Sorry, you didn't get, uh. Air." Cas's voice sounded strangely lower than it was a moment before, probably because it was echoing off of Dean's cheekbone. Cas could see a blurred outline of the crinkles next to Dean's eyes suddenly darkening and spidering out into his skin. Dean had the most perfect smile, and Cas was a little sad he didn't get to see it in anything but his peripherals right now, but he wouldn't give up the way Dean was held against him for anything in the world. 
> 
> "It's okay." Dean's voice was just as low and scruffy as ever, so beautifully deep and perfect, Cas had to squeeze his eyes shut again. He could feel the huff of Dean's breath against his jaw and neck when his eyes were closed, and Cas breathed in that sensation for a moment too. Cas had kissed Dean and made him smile, made those beautiful crowsfeet appear and for some reason, Cas didn't want it to count in his logarithm. He wasn't getting any x's for this, because it just. Wasn't like that. It was more. 
> 
> Eventually, Dean's breathing changed again, just one short, regretful puff. Cas echoed Dean's sigh, knowing they couldn't stay like this forever (well, Cas could, he didn't have anything better to do and he didn't need to eat or sleep or hunt things, he was fine to just hold Dean for all of eternity) and they had to get back to the motel, do more research, save lives.
> 
> They pulled away at the same time, their eyes catching one more time before Dean drew his arms back, making Cas feel empty. Cas drew his hand back too, at the same time one of Dean's hands went to go run through his hair, a nervous habit he'd picked up a long time ago. Their hands collided for a moment, Dean's fingers slamming against Cas's wrist. Dean jumped, pulling his hand back quickly and going wide-eyed.
> 
> "Sorry, I didn't-"
> 
> "It's okay." Cas smiled at Dean's sudden nervousness. The smile made Dean's features soften back down. His mouth opened up, like he wanted to say something, then closed again, like he didn't know how. That was okay, Cas could say it for him. He saw it in Dean's eyes the moment their hands collided, the sudden paranoia and guilt. Cas understood though, and as much as he didn't want to talk about it, he'd at least say something. "I know, Dean."
> 
> Dean looked at him and tilted his head a bit to the side. Cas raised his eyebrows and nodded, confirming that yeah, he knew. He knew Dean was feeling guilty because Dean didn't know where he stood with Sam, where he stood with Cas. Dean was lost, and Cas hadn't made it any easier by kissing him. But kissing Dean was something Castiel could never ever regret. So he just nodded. 
> 
> Dean's gaze turned to the floor, a blush creeping up his neck. Cas would be lying if he said Dean wasn't beautiful like this, all shy and embarrassed and compliant and blushing. Cas would kiss him again, but maybe twice wouldn't be quite so forgivable. And having Dean not hate him came way before getting to put his tongue on those pretty lips.
> 
> So Cas just reached out and tapped Dean's arm, a weak imitation at a shoulder slap, but enough to get Dean to look up again.
> 
> "So, can I ride in the front seat back to the motel?" The worry on Dean's face wiped clean and he grinned, hooking an arm over Cas's shoulders. It was just like it had been three years ago, Dean's arm around Cas's shoulders as they walked out to the car. That had been just before their first kiss. Cas couldn't help it if he was grinning like a fool.
> 
> "Maybe just this once." Dean's lips were still swollen, and the blush hadn't disappeared from his neck yet, and his spikes were misshapen, but Cas somehow managed to make it back to the car without kissing him. And the entire ride back to the motel, too.

~*~*~*~*~

> John's journal was something that meant a lot to Dean, that was obvious to anyone. Dean didn't let strangers see it, or anyone but Sam really. And Cas, who Dean had absolutely no qualms with reading it. Cas checked that down as a mini x, because it was something special and he couldn't just ignore it. He was propped up on Dean's side of his and Sam's bed, and Dean was researching things in Sam's chair. Maybe that was ironic, where they chose to sit. Maybe it was just coincidence. 
> 
> Cas kept glancing up ocassionally, noticing Dean's jaw, watching as the swelling on his lips slowly subsided. They were super far apart now, but this felt comfortable too. Just, the pleasant silence of shared company. It was quie nice.
> 
> When Cas complimented John's handwriting, Dean looked up at him. But he didn't seem to hear Cas, or probably didn't really care that much about the compliment. Clearly, something was bugging him. Cas almost rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, about to tell Dean that yeah, he could tell Sam. Yeah, stop feeling guilty, it was Cas's fault anyways. But then Dean blurted out something strange.
> 
> "How you feeling, Cas?" Cas furrowed his eyebrows. That was quite a strange question. Cas hadn't been acting any sort of way to make Dean ask that, had he?
> 
> "I'm fine." Dean looked down, pursing his lips with disbelief or something of that sort.
> 
> "Well, I just – I – I know that when... I got puked out of Purgatory, it took me a few weeks to... find my sea legs." It was sweet of Dean to be genuinely concerned about how Cas felt. Cas smiled a little internally, marking down another x for him. Dean hated talking about emotions and feelings, but he not only was talking about them right now, he'd actually been the one to bring them up. But for some reason it felt like maybe that wasn't what Dean was really trying to say. Either way, Cas was kind of an angel of the lord, he didn't have "sea legs" and he honestly did feel fine.
> 
> "I'm fine."
> 
> "Don't get me wrong. I'm – I’m happy you're back. I'm – I’m freaking thrilled." Thrilled? That was kind of a huge thing. Dean was _thrilled_ that Cas was back. Even if he said it in his not-so-thrilled tone. Something was on Dean's mind, but Cas could still take the compliment. It was surprising because when Cas was back, Dean's life was twice as complicated. Cas just added to the amount of trouble and issues Dean had to work through, so Dean really shouldn't be so happy Cas was back. Let alone thrilled.
> 
> "It's just this whole mysterious-resurrection thing – it always has one mother of a downside." There it was. Dean wanted to know how Cas got lifted out of Purgatory. Well, Cas didn't know. When he told Dean what he remembered - fighting leviathan and then walking on the side of the road in Ilinois - Cas was telling the truth. But clearly the truth wasn't enough for Dean, he had to dig deeper, find out _why_. Cas closed the journal, turned his full attention to Dean. 
> 
> "So, what do you want me to do?" Dean was leaning forwards in his chair, like eliminating a couple more inches between them was quite necessary. If Sam had never been a factor, Cas briefly wondered if he and Dean would be in a relationship. Maybe, maybe not. Probably. Hopefully. 
> 
> "Maybe take a trip upstairs."
> 
> "To Heaven?" Cas was really hoping Dean was not talking about Heaven. Of course, he was.
> 
> "Yeah, poke around, see if the God squad can't tell us how you got out." If it had been any other time, Cas might have laughed or sighed at Dean's term for the angels. There were a lot of nicknames for angels that the Winchesters frequented. But the idea of going up to Heaven squandered any sort of humour in Dean's words.
> 
> "No." The number of times he'd said no to Dean could be counted on one hand. It was pointless, apparently, because Dean kept on talking, didn't hear him. Didn't understand what no meant.
> 
> "Look, man, I – I hate those flying-ass monkeys just as much as you do, but –"
> 
> "Dean! I said no!" Cas interrupted, his voice forceful and definitely verging on rude. Dean kind of froze and looked at him. Cas turned his head away, lookingat the empty wall. There was a heartbeat or two of silence, then he could hear Dean reach over and close the laptop. He stood, walking towards Cas. Cas sat still and didn't watch Dean come over. Finally Dean gracefully sat down on the spare bed, facing Cas and clapping his hands together softly. 
> 
> "Talk to me." That had to have been the only time in Dean's life those three words came out in that order. Cas _knew_ one of the biggest issues Dean had was communication, always refusing to talk about his feelings and emotions. Sometimes violently refusing. But here he was, sitting down across from Cas with a serious look on his features. 
> 
> "Dean, I..." Cas shook his head. It wasn't that easy. But Dean was magnetized, and Cas sat John's journal aside, scooting forward on the bed to face Dean. This was going to be painful. 
> 
> "When I was..." Cas finally met Dean's eyes, and Dean had no masks on. He wasn't hiding an ounce of his concern, just tilted forward on the bed across from Cas. "bad... and I had all those things – the... the leviathans... writhing inside me... I caused a lot of suffering on earth, but I devastated Heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I – I – I can't go back."
> 
> Dean blinked and sat, looking magnificently pretty with his perfect posture and contemplating mouth. Cas just let their eyes rest on each other until Dean spoke. His voice was soft and quiet, which made it seem lower and more mature than it already was.
> 
> "'Cause if you do, the angels will kill you."
> 
> "Because if I see what Heaven's become – what I –" Cas turned and sighed. He could still see the smoke, the vapor seeping from the dead bodies, the burnt shadows of wings etched into the once pleasant grass. "what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself."
> 
> It wasn't easy, but Cas held Dean's gaze. Dean soaked in the words and reeled back a little. His mouth parted, about to say something, his eyes suddenly torn, open wounds. The pain etched into the beautiful man's features was upsetting in itself, although Cas didn't see the disappointment there he had been expecting. He'd braced himself for a yelling match, Dean calling him stupid _how could you try to throw your life away, Cas?_ And Cas would shout back _you can't understand Dean, the damage I made, the lives I took. I'm better off dead._
> 
> But the yelling match didn't come. Dean just looked overwhelmed and scared and broken, very very broken. His eyes darted down, like he was gathering courage. The muscles in his legs twitched, and suddenly Cas could picture it, Dean gently switching beds, weighing down the bedspread next to Cas. Turning to him, reaching out a hand to cup Cas's face. _I need you, Cas. Don't leave me._. 
> 
> Then the door opened and Cas was snapped out of his impossible fantasy, words he needed to hear more than anything else in the entire world, but knew _knew_ would never be his. Cas didn't deserve them, he didn't deserve Dean's absolute love. And that was how Dean would tell Cas he loved him, if he ever did. But he wouldn't. 
> 
> "Hey." Dean turned his head to the side, instantly categorizing Sam's whereabouts and condition based off of a peripheral glance and analyzation of his tone. Content that Sam was okay, Dean turned back to Cas. His lips were parted, and his eyes had a hundred messages all at once, too many for Cas to handle. He'd just told Dean something he'd never planned on saying, and Dean was clearly so moved by it. Cas figured he could probably chalk that whole conversation up to another x for his side, but the logarithm was slowly becoming more childish. He added the 11th x anyways, for the principle of it.
> 
> "Got something." Cas briefly turned his eyes to Sam, then back to the very small, vulnerable looking Dean. Dean was so much more moved by this than Cas had thought he would be. But Cas couldn't talk about it anymore, couldn't stick around to see the disappointment eventually seep into Dean's pretty eyes. He shifted his gaze away guiltily, then sprung up off the bed, headed over to Sam.
> 
> "Good." Sam looked up and nodded slightly in Cas's direction, then his eyes caught on Dean. Dean was still sitting on the bed, his back to them and his shoulders stiff. He almost looked a little like he was shaking. Sam furrowed his eyebrows, opening up his mouth to say something, to ask Dean what was wrong. Then Cas quickly interrupted him, before he could question why they were sitting on the beds and talking when he came in. "Excellent. What?"
> 
> Sam couldn't resist the urge to talk about the case, which Cas had been counting on, and Dean finally stood and followed, his mouth now set in a grim line and all the mask-free emotions of before locked away. Cas tried not to look at Dean as Sam spoke, and he minorly succeeded. A little.
> 
> The swelling of Dean's mouth had gone down exceptionally, which was nicely convenient. Dean shot his eyes over to Cas as he spoke, their gazes locking for a moment, a burning heat igniting in the air between them. It was a different kind of heat from before, although not so different Cas didn't feel the gravitational tug from Dean. Dean almost looked angry, although he wasn't directing it towards Cas. Which meant...oh no, Dean was probably blaming himself. At least a little. He was probably beating himself up, asking why he hadn't been there for Cas, why he hadn't seen the signs earlier...but it wasn't Dean's fault. Not really. Dean couldn't be blamed for Cas falling in love with him. So what if Castiel had been changed the moment he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition? That wasn't anything of Dean's doing.
> 
> Sam bent over the map, his fingers on little x's. Dean pretended to look for a moment, then shot his eyes over at Cas as soon as Sam was preoccupied. Cas dipped his head a little and returned the look, Dean's arms crossed and his eyes finally revealing a clear message. _We are talking about this later._ Cas just tilted his head and looked at the map, looked at Sam, working on drawing the same conclusions about the case that Sam was.
> 
> Sam actually handed _Cas_ the case file with the pictures, and Cas scanned over them. There wasn't anything he could really see that was relevant to the case in these pictures. That was a bit disappointing. Dean turned his head towards Cas (again) and Cas didn't look back at all this time. He was training his brain entirely on the case, he needed to be helpful. If Cas wanted to stick around, he couldn't be a burden. Or just an extra police scanner. He needed to solve things, help things. So he ignored Dean's glances. Fairly effectively too.
> 
> Even though it wasn't very pleasant. But answering to Dean's various degree of glances and glares would be less pleasant.

~*~*~*~

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"Yeah. Agent Crosby, FBI." Sam flipped up his badge too, watching Dean's wallet unfold in unison. They actually never practiced that or intended for it to be synchronized, it just was. Which made a hell of an impression. Sam saw movement in his peripheral and turned his head toward Cas, who reached for his jacket pocket before realizing he had nothing to grab. His features sunk and he looked down, very aware he didn't have a badge. Sam felt a ping of sorrow for him, but he wasn't sure giving the angel a badge was a very good idea. It wasn't up to Sam though, Dean handled all of their illegal paperwork. 

Sam marked down a slightly regretful tally on his side, which took him up to 8. Then the doctor gave them permission and walked away, the daunting task of who knows how many in-cognate old people sitting before them. 

"All right, let's do this." Dean took a step forward, a hand out behind him as he spoke again, not facing them. 

"No flirting, you two." Sam and Cas both glared at Dean in annoyance and for one moment, they were unified. Just for a single second, they shared the same outlook, the same annoyed glance at the back of Dean's head and quick sweep down to Dean's ass as he walked ahead of them. It was strange, to suddenly realize how alike Sam was to the angel beside him, how they looked at Dean the same, how they both thought of him as their entire world. Then Sam huffed and stepped after Dean, decidedly uncomfortable with the sudden realization that Cas felt the same way he did, about the same man, both of their little planets revolving around the faint smell of leather and the quick, sassy smirk. 

As Dean walked and the two of them followed, it was like some kind of funny symbolism, both of them rushedly hurrying to catch up, trailing after the pretty boy who had them both wrapped around his finger. Sam wondered who had it worse, Cas or Dean, because Dean had to live with caring for them both, but Cas never was the one to win what he deserved. Sam was appreciative of his end of the deal, he was the one who took home the green-eyed boy most of the time. Even if Sam had to console with Dean's sharing his affection with another man, Sam still was the one with the least amount of baggage on his plate.

Sam had just finished searching underneath the gum-ridden table in the back of the room, finding absolutely no trace of EMF or a hex bag. So obviously, Sam was already in frustrated mode when he scanned around the room looking for Dean. His eyes finally landed on him, sitting at the head of a table with an white haired woman and Cas. So apparently, split up and cover more ground didn't apply to Dean and Cas. That was fine, whatever. Cas probably needed all the help he could get for interviewing anyways.

Sam was about to cross over the room, make his way over to meet up with the other guys when he suddenly froze. Cas was talking to the white haired woman, a chess board sitting between them. Dean was looking at her for a moment too, and then Dean turned his head away from the witness, his gaze landing on Cas.

The way Dean looked at his angel, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening and spreading, his eyebrows raised in some mix between amusement and deep deep affection. Dean had his hands clasped together on the table which made him look strangely young. His mouth was curved up in a genuine, happy smile, one Sam wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. There was no smirk, no playful teasing or brotherly kick in the smile, just simple, pure joy and love. Dean stayed that way, almost like he was frozen for Sam to analyze. No, wait. Frozen just by looking at Cas. Who wasn't even paying attention to Dean, he was busy talking to the witness, not so much as a glance Dean's way. And Dean stared at Cas like he was the entire universe.

Eventually Dean turned his head and looked down, running his tongue over his lips. That broke Sam out of his trance, and he quickly course-corrected, no longer going to meet up with Dean and Cas. No, they could have their space, Sam would go wait on the wall. He slumped against it, his eyes still finding the gelled tips of Dean's hair over the heads of all the old people. Sam turned away, gritting his teeth. Dean didn't look at him like that. Did he? How did Dean look at him anyways? People so often discredited the power of a single moment of someone looking at each other. It was overrated, underanalyzed, but honestly so important. The way someone looks at you changes everything. And when you're not looking back, the look on their face could tell you the answer to every question you ever had about how they felt. Suddenly Sam really wanted to know.

He could remember a few times, being in the car and seeing the reflection of Dean looking at him. Sam could remember his content, happy expression, how much it had surprised Sam in its differ from Dean's usual intensity with how he saw his. When Dean used to look at him, his face would soften into something more peaceful, like maybe Sam was the antidote to the evil lurking in Dean's head. After hell, Dean didn't look at him like that anymore. Sam couldn't antidote the demons that had rallied inside of Dean, especially not when he'd come so close to becoming one too, that year. Sam had been so far off the reservation...that had been when Dean first started falling for Cas.

So it was Sam's fault really, just another awesome side-affect to drinking demon blood. Besides the fact that Dean _still_ hadn't gotten over it, still didn't trust Sam (although he didn't really trust anyone), the most important person in Sam's life had been shut out by his stupid actions and Dean had turned to the closest warm embrace that loved him back. Cas. Just another thing for Sam to blame himself for.

But at least Dean had other people who cared about him. Sam did too, he had had Amelia. The biggest differences between their year apart right now was that Dean still had all of the collateral damage from that year around. Benny, whatever had happened between him and Cas. Amelia was gone, Sam had broken it off clean. Unlike Dean. 

Suddenly an orderly appeared at Sam's side, drawing him out of his depressing thoughts.

"It's creepy, right? A lot of these people – they just tune out and live in their own heads. It's like maybe the real world is too much for them, and they just run and hide, you know?" Then the orderly disappeared, just as quickly as he'd come.

In fact, Sam did know. He'd spent a year with the real world being too much for him...Sam had lived in his head, in the dream, to keep out the pain. Sam had been running and hiding for a lot of his life, but never like that year, never like when Dean was gone. Sam's thoughts drifted off, his mind suddenly back to that day he'd meet Stan, sitting at a table with Amelia approaching, light on her feet and glowing softly like everything did in these flashbacks. Sam watched the scene play out, suddenly Stan's words echoing in his mind.

 _"After what happened to Don, I don't blame her for taking off. Needing to run away and hide – I know why she did it. The question is – what are_ you _running from, Sam?"_

 

"Hey, what do you got?" Sam startled and looked over at Dean, like he was super surprised to see him. Or to see the old people around them. Sam had clearly been off in lala land. Dean raised his eyebrows, but Sam pretended not to notice.

He'd been doing that quite a bit lately, just zoning off and getting this look on his face like he wasn't even anywhere in the vicinity. It had happened yesterday in the morgue, Dean and Cas had walked out and made it halfway down the hallway before Dean realized Sam wasn't following. Dean had sprinted back to the morgue room, skidding in the doorway and calling out Sam's name. Sam had just been standing, staring at nothing, his eyes looking at a scene Dean couldn't see. He'd startled at Dean's entrance, jumping a little and looking up, then shuffling up his papers and apologizing, hurrying out the door before Dean could ask him what the hell that was. Dean's heart had been pounding, which was ridiculous, Sam had been gone for like twenty seconds. But there was something about Sam not being accounted for that just ruined Dean, made him go off his gasket. 

Walking up to Sam at the wall, Dean had seen that same look on his face. That was why his fingers brushed Sam's wrist as he spoke his opener, making Sam jump a little again. There was something familiar about that look, but Dean couldn't place it yet. And he couldn't very well just ask, besides, Sam probably wouldn't tell him. Dean could figure it out though. 

Sam stammered a bit before his reply, keeping his wrist still as Dean ran his fingertips over it gently. 

"Hey, um nothing. Uh, no hex bags, no EMF. You?" Dean sighed and decided to drop it. For now. He was definitely coming back to this topic though, the topic of why Sam kept getting freak zone-out sessions. And why Dean was so close to placing what they were. They were so familiar...

"Nada. Half the folks I talked to don't even remember being robbed." Sam nodded and they fell into a comfortable silence. It was on cases that it wasn't just the two of them that Dean started to really kind of value the time he had alone with Sam. Even just like this, his fingers running over Sammy's wrist as they stood in silence, both just thinking about the case. It was really kind of nice. And it made all of the cases it was just the two of them seem to have more value, too. Not that Dean didn't love working with Cas. It was all around just nice.

Except for all of the pent up sexual frustration of course. But that was just part of the job description.

~*~*~*~

"Real freaking smooth." Sam wasn't going to be the one to scold Cas on the comment that nearly got them arrested. But that was okay, Dean more than had it covered.

"Well, we don't have to leave him. I could teleport him."

"Fred's radioactive, Cas. You zap him – no telling what will happen." Cas made a pouting face at that, but Sam kept walking. They were in a triangle, Dean and Sam juxtaposed in the front and Cas between them, but a step behind. Sam tried not to see symbolism in everything but really, Cas was between them and a step behind? How could Sam _not_ see the symbolism in that?

"Me and Sam will circle back tonight, get Fred nice and clean. You go “Invisible Girl” and keep an eye on him. You hear me?" Dean just kicked Cas out _and_ called him a girl. That definitely got marked down as tally #9 for Sam.

When Cas didn't reply, Sam and Dean both turned to look behind them. Cas had already flapped off.

"Good." Dean retorted. Sam raised his eyebrows a little and bit down on his lip to stop the smile that threatened to give him away.

They made it back to the motel in a familiar, comfortable silence. Sam kept watching Dean whenever he got preoccupied with the road, taking advantage of small distractions like left turns to rememorize the lines of Dean's jaw.

By the time the motel door clicked shut behind them, Sam was already at the point of having adjust himself, all of the time apart from Dean escalating up to them finally being alone. And it was only like 3 in the afternoon, they had quite some time before they were due back to get Fred tonight. Sam could imagine a million things to get done in the seven hours or so that they had to spare. 

Dean walked straight to the edge of the spare bed, shedding his jacket off his shoulders and folding it in half before tossing it on the bed. Sam did the same, draping his over the back of his chair. He was at Dean's back seconds later, pressing the outline of his interested cock up against Dean's ass and wrapping his arms around Dean's middle, his fingers dipping underneath the top of Dean's fed pants. Sam mouthed at Dean's neck, scraping his teeth gently over the sensitive skin behind Dean's ear. 

Dean shivered and let out a quiet moan. He tilted his head to the side giving Sam more access to the expanse of skin at his neck. Sam pressed his fingers against Dean's v muscles, the tucked hem of Dean's button up keeping his fingers from the skin. Dean pressed back against Sam's hips, rotating his hips just a little to rub his ass over Sam's tented pants. Sam dug his fingers into Dean's skin harder, making the muscles clench and flutter. 

"O-oh. Sam," Dean breathed. His hands reached behind Sam, grabbing a handful of Sam's ass and squeezing. Sam bucked his hips against Dean, making his breath stutter again. The skin under Sam's mouth was darkening and turning purple already, Sam's teeth and tongue working over the spot with vigor. Sam detached his mouth and licked a broad stripe over the bruise, feeling the shutter all the way down Dean's spine. 

Dean suddenly spun around in Sam's hold, looking up at Sam with darkened eyes. Dean tugged Sam's shirt out of its tuck in his pants, and Sam did the same, his fingers against bare skin now as Sam squeezed them under the rim of Dean's pockets. There wasn't enough room with Dean's ass to do anything but rest them on the skin of the slope just above it, but Sam was too busy with other parts of Dean to worry. Dean bit at Sam's jaw, nipping down a line. Then he was running his hands up Sam's back, grinding his hips forward and rubbing friction along their clothed erections.

Sam tilted his head out of reach of Dean's teeth, leaving him nipping at the air before he brought his head back. Sam grinned watching the flash of annoyance cross Dean's face, opening up his mouth to protest or ask why. As soon as Dean's mouth was open, Sam closed the space between them again, his mouth crushing against Dean's. Dean's protests vanished and he pushed up into Sam's mouth, digging his fingertips deeper as their tongues slid across each other. Sam pulled at Dean's flushed bottom lip with his teeth, backing Dean up with rough movements, bumping the back of Dean's knees against the bed. 

The hands that had been resting at the top of Dean's ass slid back out of his pants, scooping up underneath Dean's ass and lifting him up, forcing a strangled sound from Dean's mouth that sounded something like humiliation. Sam just smiled and tossed Dean just slightly, following his body's trajectory to the middle of the bed, managing not to separate their mouths as he got Dean on the bed. Dean made another noise into Sam's mouth but Sam just pushed him down on the mattress, his hands wedged between their bodies to push at Dean's chest. Once Dean was flat on his back, Sam lowered his hips back down to line up over his brother's again, bringing back the needy friction from earlier. 

Dean's hands reached in between them and struggled with Sam's tie, eventually able to loosen it up enough to tug it free, tossing it aside and setting in on the buttons of Sam's shirt. Sam broke apart the kiss, lifting himself up to watch Dean undress him, Dean's cheeks pink and his fingers moving swiftly. Sam kept up the slow circular grind of their hips, which turned to be quite a distraction for Dean. Dean would get a button or two done then throw his head back, moaning Sam's name and arching his back. He'd shiver and buck up into Sam before he managed to get a grip on himself, breathing out shakily and straighten his head back out, fingers shaking as they set in on the next button.

Sam kept up the slow torture, drinking in the sounds Dean made and the way he fell apart under Sam, just from the simple rubbing of the hard lines of their cocks against each other. Dean finally managed to get the last button undone without ripping anything, shoving the shirt off of Sam's shoulders and tossing that, too, somewhere across the room that really didn't matter right now. 

Dean's hands roamed over Sam's bare chest, tweaking over a nipple before running his fingers along the lines of Sam's ribs. Finally Dean looked back up at Sam's eyes, after pausing to stare at Sam's mouth for a moment. Then Dean's hands snaked up to the back of Sam's head, pulling him down to connect their mouths together again. Sam let Dean take his frustration out on Sam's lips, the kiss rough and full of teeth and tongue. When they finally broke apart for air, Sam resumed his torturing, marking up one of Dean's collarbones as he slid his hips in a new motion, rubbing up and down against Dean now. Dean started in on the most pitiful sounds, breathy whines and little groans, all accompanied by different versions of Sam's name, low and dangerous or short and shocked. 

Sam was taking his time, slowly drawing Dean to the edge and holding him there, making him squirm under Sam's touch. Sam quickly worked all of the buttons of Dean's shirt open, swiftly spreading the separate pieces of cloth to the side. Sam didn't bother with the tie yet, just loosened it and pushed it to the side. Sam left Dean's collarbone, brushing just the very tip of his tongue against Dean's chest, running down past his pectoral muscles slowly, a single, thin, wet line all the way down the middle of Dean's torso to his belly button. Dean's hands found Sam's hair as Sam snaked down further, his breathing just panting now, fingers clutching fists of Sam's hair. Sam moved lower, past where Dean's skin ended, putting his mouth down over Dean's pants where his dick was straining against the fabric. Sam mouthed down over the bulge, making Dean gasp and buck up against Sam's mouth. 

Sam was just about to suck through the fabric, get it wet enough that Dean would start spilling out precum, when the phone rang. Sam lifted his mouth for a moment, looking up at Dean. Dean was staring at the ceiling, his mouth open to say something, but words weren't coming out. Sam snorted and pressed a kiss to Dean's stomach, just below his belly button. Then Sam crawled off the bed, sighing as he left Dean lying there, complacent and so eager. By the time Sam reached Dean's jacket pocket, the phone had stopped ringing. Sam took it out anyways, flipping it open and seeing the _Missed Call_ blinking across the screen. Sam dialed "1" for voicemail, putting the phone up to his ear as he looked over at Dean.

Dean was just where he left him, staring up at the ceiling, except now one of his hands was on his forehead and the other was bunched up in the sheets. Sam got even harder at the sight, at Dean so lost and needy, spread out on the bed with his shirt spread open and a flush across his chest and neck, like some sort of beautiful sacrifice to the luckiest god in the world. Sam's staring was cut short as the voicemail finally connected and Cas's worried voice came over the phone.

 _"Dean, it's Cas. Something happened, you uh. You better come I don't know what I'm supposed to do I wasn't expecting the cake to- [pause] just, come as soon as you can, okay?"_ The tone sounded and Sam sighed, flicking the phone shut. Dean turned his head, the hand still on his forehead, his face looking entirely spent and more sexually frustrated than Sam can remember even seeing before. He almost wanted to ignore the voicemail, but it was Cas, and they couldn't do that to him. Plus people could be dying.

"That was Cas. We gotta go." Sam said the last words reluctantly, and Dean turned his head back up to stare at the ceiling, groaning loudly. Sam crossed the room and scooped up his shirt, throwing it back over his shoulders and starting to button it up. He looked around the room, finally finding his tie draped over a lamp on the side table. His eyes went to Dean, who still hadn't moved from his altar on the bed. 

"Dean. C'mon man. Now." Dean groaned again and sat up, palming at the slightly damp bulge in his pants.

"How am I supposed to go be a fed when I've got _this_?" Sam slipped his tie around his neck, tying the knot automatically as he looked down at Dean and his very obvious situation. Yeah, that could be a problem. Sam was slowly working himself out of the mood, but he always had an easier time getting back down than Dean did. 

"We'll listen to shitty music on the way over or something, I don't know. Just button up, or I'm leaving without you." Dean grumbled something inaudible and started in on his buttons, getting up off the bed and walking stiffly over to where his jacket had been abandoned. Sam shouldered on his own jacket, snatching the keys out of Dean's as Dean threw it around his shoulders.

"Hey!" 

"You're not driving like that, the point is to not get harder, Dean."

"Driving does not make me- that is _not_ the way I feel about the car." Sam just smirked and opened up the motel door. Teasing Dean had been Sam's specialty since the beginning of time, and no matter what their relationship was like, it was still a vital part of almost every conversation.

Dean bent into the shotgun seat, buckling his seatbelt and grumbling something bitchy under his breath. Sam just started up the engine, turning his head over his shoulder as he backed the car out of the motel parking lot. Dean adjusted in his seat, cursing under his breath at the still unresolved problem in his pants.

"This had better be good, or I'm gonna kill something, I swear." 

~*~*~*~

Dean was finally calmed down enough to not draw stares to his crotch by the time he reached Cas. Old people and the smell of this place certainly did the trick. Cas turned to Dean, his eyes lighting up the second he saw him, although there were stress lines and worry all over his features.

"Oh. You got my message. Good." Dean was going to chew out Cas for calling him for no reason until he took in the state of the dayroom. Wow, okay, there was pink literally everywhere. 

"What the hell happened?"

"There was a pastry mishap." Yeah, clearly. It was pretty bad, although Dean was still kind of pissed about getting interrupted. If Cas couldn't handle some exploding cake, then he seriously needed some more training. There weren't any fatalities from where Dean could see, so why had Cas called then?

"Okay, and?" Meaning, something the hell else better have happened for you to make me haul ass down here in the middle of a potential blowjob. Or hookup. Or multiple hookups. He and Sam were supposed to have like seven hours, not seventeen minutes. 

"And the frosting reached near-supersonic speeds. I thought –"

"Hey." Sam appeared on the scene and Dean turned to him, forgetting they were interrupting Cas as he greeted Sam back.

"Hey." Sam was breathing heavy, and Dean quirked an eyebrow up at the sight. Either Sam had decided to handle his own situation anyways, or something else had happened.

"Fred's gone." Well shit, that wasn't nearly as nice as the alternative.

"What?" Castiel sounded distraught, and he looked like he might cry. Dean watched Sam run a hand over his mouth as Dean spoke.

"Oh, fan-freaking-tastic." Dean turned his gaze back to Cas. "Way to take your eye off the ball."

Sam was a little guilty in taking his 10th tally, but it was a fair game and upset or not, Cas had messed up. It could have been worse, but hey. And then Cas managed to redeem himself a little by getting a lead on where Fred might be. So Sam stopped feeling guilty and decided to keep the tally anyways.

They were walking out to the Impala after interrogating that one orderly when Sam's high got clouded up again. Cas had turned to Dean, opening up the back door as he spoke.

"Do you think Mr. Jones knows what's happening?" Dean had made a face, squinching up his eyebrows in thought.

"I don't know. Seems to me like the dude's living in a dream world." _Living in a dream world._

Sam got in the car and his mind drifted back again, back to that night with Amelia's father. _Stan carried wine glasses into the kitchen where Sam was cleaning, setting them down in the sink. Sam barely glanced at him, very aware of what he'd just told Amelia. Sometimes having trained hearing made life even more painful than it did good. Stan had spoken up, an attempted warmth in his words. It was like he was trying too hard, but Sam understood. Somewhat._

_"I'll dry. Is that your car outside – the Impala?" The Impala. The closest thing Sam had ever had to a home, now the conversation starter for the new home he was trying to build._

_"Yeah, it was my dad's." The words slipped out without going through Sam's head first. He automatically responded that way now, even though that wasn't how Sam saw the car. Sam had spent more time in it when it was Dad's, yeah. But it had been Dean's since Dean's eighteenth birthday, and that's how Sam saw the car. But Sam didn't think that word, couldn't bring himself to think, let alone say the truth. So it was his dad's. Easier to say, easier than _it was Dean's._ Sam couldn't say that, say his name. And it wasn't like he could mention Dean without his name, because Sam didn't know what would even come out. It was my everything's? My soulmate's? My boyfriend's? My brother's? As if Amelia's dad didn't hate him enough._

_"Guy had good taste... for a jarhead."_

_Stan smiled then, but Sam couldn’t smile back. He didn't mean to, but suddenly Sam looked down and rubbed his left palm. It was the hand that he cut a long time ago, back when he fell when Cas became Godstiel. Dean had been the one to stitch it up, place a kiss of the stitches the next day. And then, when Sam hallucinated Lucifer, Dean had taken his hand, held his hand and pressed into the cut, grounding Sam back to Dean. Grounding Sam to reality. Sam used that technique - rubbing his thumb into the stitches to ground himself - to distract himself from his hallucinations of Lucifer. He hadn't really noticed he'd done it at the time, but now that Sam looked back on it, he saw clearly what he was trying to do, his attempt to ground himself to reality. (To Dean)_

The creak of Dean's door swinging open snapped Sam out of his flashback and he quickly followed suit, opening his door too and getting out of the car. The three of them walked down the alleyway, coming up on the bank the doctor was in. Dean turned his head, addressing both Cas and Sam at once.

"All right. Jones has got to be close. I'll hit the bank. You see if you can find him." Dean gave them orders easily, and both of them followed obediently and silently. Dean was always the leader in charge on missions, always the one who introduced them, ran the operation, called the next shot. If Dean wasn't such a damn good hunter, he would be the best general the country had ever seen. He was the type of man that people would throw themselves into battle for, under his kind care and stern direction. Dean would be the general who ran into battle one step ahead of his troops, fighting alongside them with more enthusiasm than the rest combined. Besides, the image of Dean in a army green general's uniform was quite an interesting one. 

It struck Sam as funny, how Dean managed to boss everyone around in public, but he was a submissive lamb between the sheets. Dean literally rolled over for Sam, ass up and begging with his pretty mouth. Even with women, Dean ended up bottoming a lot. Sam had walked in on Dean enough times since his childhood to know that much. 

Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye at Cas. He wondered....

Did that mean Cas was a top? Did he push Dean around, force him down like Sam did? He was shorter than Dean...maybe that added to the effect. Sam could totally just see Dean getting all flushed by being dominated by someone smaller than him. That's how he was with women, anyways. So it was probably that way with Cas too. 

Sam snorted to himself, shaking his head. God, he did not want to think about Cas and Dean having sex. That was just...no. They had more important things to take care of right now anyways, things like stopping Fred from getting Dean killed by a psycho doctor in a bank vault.

> "...take control," Sam urged. Cas looked from the older man to Dean's brother, the pleading face Sam had on. Sam was taking this personally, the living in a dream thing. Cas had seen that much on Sam's face when Dean had said it. Cas didn't know anything about Sam's year apart from Dean, except just that. They'd been apart. 
> 
> Well, until the car ride. Cas knew it was cheap, but Sam had this look on his face, like he wasn't even there. Dean had noticed too, and kept shooting worried glances at Sam, biting his lower lip. About halfway through the car ride, something changed and Dean's face suddenly lit up. He turned back to the road, a mixture of relief and annoyance crossing his face. 
> 
> "Flashback. Duh," Dean had muttered under his breath, too low for normal human ears to hear. So that's why Sam kept spacing out. That's when Cas had taken that step, kind of crossed over the line of privacy and taken a peek in Sam's head. It was just a peek, not looking into any of Sam's thoughts or emotions or anything, just at the scene that was playing in front of his eyes. 
> 
> So now Cas had an idea of the dream world Sam kept thinking about, and he knew that's what this was about, that he was convincing himself out of it just as much as he was convincing Fred.
> 
> "It's too hard!" The older man shouted back. Sam had leveled with him then, the speech of the century spilling from his lips.
> 
> "Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend..." The background changed, and suddenly Cas looked at Sam again. Wait. _You can pretend. (that he loves you as much as you loves him)_
> 
> "....all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you." Cas started, his heart sinking as the words soaked in. "It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!"
> 
> How many times had Cas's love for Dean destroyed him? Destroyed his judgement, destroyed his decisions? Cas couldn't. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. Or to Dean. Cas would never make Dean chose, and part of him knew Sam never would either. So Cas had to make the choice then.
> 
> Cas had to wake up. He had to get out of this dream he was living. 
> 
>  
> 
> "Is he, uh – is he okay?" Sam looked worriedly at Fred, who was sitting silently in his chair. Cas smiled softly.
> 
> "He's listening to "Ode to Joy." Fred closed his eyes and smiled slightly. "He's happy."
> 
> Funny, how out of the the four of them, Fred, who just had most of his mind wiped, was the happiest. Cas looked at Dean, who had a small smile on his face. Then Dean turned to him too, their eyes meeting with a low blow to Cas's gut. 
> 
> "All right, well, let's blow this termite terrace. Cas, you get to ride shotgun. You done good." Cas smiled sadly. There, it was solid. He beat out Sam, had gotten more x's, more tallies. And that was the final key, the biggest proof Cas could ever ask for. But he couldn't take it. Not anymore. Cas couldn't live that dream anymore. He couldn't ride shotgun, knowing it was Sam's seat, knowing that tomorrow he'd be in the backseat again. And he couldn't kick Sam out either, not when Sam finally let go of his dream that included a normal life outside of Dean. So Cas had to give up the fake world he'd been living in too.
> 
> "Thanks, but I, uh... I can't come. I, uh..." Cas didn't know how to say, what to say. He had a funny feeling in his head, like he'd just been dreaming somewhere dark inside him, a conversation Cas didn't remember having echoing strangely in the back of his head. _I have been pretending that I can just run from what I did in heaven._ Then there was an unrecognized female's words responding. _This is about more than just heaven, Castiel. You're running from him. You can't let him control you like that, make you think you have to come back to fix heaven._ Cas didn't know where or when that conversation happened, but it was strange and he shook his head slightly, trying to get it out of his mind. Then Sam said something, and the words were gone entirely, Cas snapping his gaze up to Sam's. 
> 
> "You – you what, Cas? W-why can't you come with us?" 
> 
> "I, um..." _I'm in love with your brother and I'm in this dreamworld thinking he needs me back._ "I want to stay with Mr. Jones. Someone should watch over him for a few days just to be safe."
> 
> Dean looked at him, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. His eyes had a message for Cas, his face written over with concern. _This isn't about us, right? Cas? You're coming back then, in a few days? You'll come find us?_
> 
> "Okay, and then what?" Cas met Dean's eyes straight on, making sure Dean knew his next words would be answering the unspoken questions as well.
> 
> "Then I'm not sure." Dean's face dropped and he nodded bitterly. Cas felt something inside him rip, seeing Dean so disappointed that Cas was leaving. Dean looked like Cas had just dumped him, but they hadn't been dating, so the look really wasn't necessary. Castiel clarified his point anyways. "But I know I can't run anymore."
> 
> Cas watched as Sam's eyes glassed over, his mind spinning back to another flashback. Dean was still in his silent reservoir, so Cas peeked in on Sam's thoughts, watching the scene as a careful outsider.
> 
> _The man Cas recognized as the woman's father indicates an unopened beer on the table._
> 
> _"You want one of these?"_
> 
> _"Please, yeah." Sam's hand goes to his hair, fixing it in that way he still did. The father opens the beer and hands it to Sam. "Thanks."_
> 
> _Sam watches as the man opens another beer for himself, flicking the opener to the side a little. A reminiscent and sad look crosses Sam's face._
> 
> _"My, uh –" Cas watched as the earlier Sam pauses, struggling for the right word to call Dean. His eyebrows quirked up in an internal laugh, thinking of how he didn't know what to call him, how he managed to fumble on just that. "My brother used to do that."_
> 
> _Cas understood the word choice, because above all, everything from their souls to their bodies aside, they were brothers._
> 
> _"Yeah?" The father asks._
> 
> _"Yeah," Earlier Sam confirms._
> 
> _"He a good guy?" Cas smiled at that question. It was the simplest and best way to describe Dean. Earlier Sam gets a look on his face, like that's exactly what he's thinking._
> 
> _"Yeah. Yeah, uh, he – he was..." Cas could see the words "my everything" resting on the edges of Sam's lips. He choses another two words, that still mean the same thing anyways. "The best. Uh, I, uh... I lost him, and, uh, I ran."_
> 
> _"I'm sorry to hear about that." The father looks sympathetic for the first time Cas had seen so far._ Cas might have kept watching, but he suddenly got a warm sensation in his body, and he snapped back out of Sam's head.
> 
> Dean was standing in front of Cas, his hand resting gently on Cas's arm. Cas darted a glance to Sam, but apparently the flashback scene didn't end there because Sam's eyes were still glassed over.
> 
> Cas turned back to Dean's green eyes, to the hurt still lingering in them.
> 
> "You'll keep in touch, right?" A smile quirked up at the corner of Cas's mouth. Dean still cared, even when he was pissed, even after Cas had told him that he was leaving. 
> 
> "Yeah, Dean, I'll keep in touch. And I'll come if you call." Cas placed his free hand over the one Dean had resting on his arm. Dean looked down at their hands and then back at Cas.
> 
> "Yeah, yeah. Okay. You take care of yourself." Dean leaned forward and Cas's breath caught in his throat, his heart racing wildly. Dean's head tilted to the side and he planted his lips on Cas's cheek. They were soft, all puckered and pressing. Dean kept them there, lingering for just a moment too long before he finally drew back. Cas stared at Dean as he came back into sight. Dean stood looking at Cas expectantly for an answer to his question.
> 
> Cas just nodded, unable to say anything for fear of what might come out of his mouth. He was sure there was a pink blush on his own cheeks now, so he'd match Dean perfectly. 
> 
> Dean nodded too, his eyes darting down as he took a step backwards, his hand slipping out from underneath Cas's as he put more space between them. Dean's fingers came up to his own mouth, pulling at his lip sideways, a funny subconscious thing he did sometimes. Dean gave Cas one last glance.
> 
> Then Dean was turning on his heel, clapping Sam on the arm and startling him a bit back into the present.
> 
> "Sam, you with me?" Dean said it as he walked away, his shoulders and quick pace showing he was still upset. Dean didn't wait for Sam, just slammed one hand on the door to open it, gone just like that. Sam smiled a tight, polite grin at Cas, then he was gone too, hurrying after his brother with confusion. Sam didn't know why Dean was pissed (Cas had to leave. He had to.), but maybe Dean would tell him. Cas wasn't sure whether that was a good thought or a bad one, Sam knowing about everything between him and Dean.
> 
> Cas shook his head, clearing the thought away. He was letting go of that dream, and he could find a new one. He _would_ find a new one. He pulled up a chair, sitting down next to Fred, and tapping into the "Ode to Joy." Beethoven was a genius. And he new exactly which dreams to follow.
> 
> Just like maybe Cas will one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was definitely the longest chapter i've ever written.  
> I normally do like one or two scenes, maybe like 5 max.  
> but i swear this was like the entire episode.  
> which is why it took me three days to write omg.  
> okay anyways THANK YOU FOR READING!! xx
> 
>  
> 
> In case you're curious, the Zep song in the car was "I Can't Quit You Baby" and I feel like it's the type of song that would annoy Sam regardless of the lyrics. 
> 
>  
> 
> So here is a link with gifs from which I based a lot of this chapter (well, the non funny parts) off of: 
> 
> http://samwinchesterappreciation.tumblr.com/post/58703226172/it-can-be-nice-living-in-a-dreamworld-it-can-be
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!! xx


	100. Educe (Citizen Fang  08x09)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Stumbling: Angel Chronicle's 100th chapter! _Confetti, it's a parade!_
> 
> Thank y'all sooooo much for reading! You are all darlings.
> 
> But anyways I love this fic bc I feel like it writes me I don't write it. Just like this show. And these ships. That ruined my life. And saved me in ways I didn't know I needed saving. 
> 
> Shoutout to all our boys and girls xx

"Hey, man. You okay?" Dean glanced up from John's journal. He shot Sam a brief glance before turning back to the pages he'd read at least 400 times.

"Fine. Why?" Right. Because sitting there reading that journal and ignoring everything else in the entire world including Sam was totally normal. Moping for the past 17 hours and speaking in one word sentences was totally normal. Why would Sam ever possibly think something might be wrong?

Sam got up from the couch and plopped down in the chair across from Dean. Dean didn't even bother glancing up this time. Sam stared at him, and Dean calmly turned the page. Sam glared now, but Dean kept ignoring him. Finally Sam spoke again, his voice snapping.

"I don't know, maybe because you haven't said barely anything to me since we left Cas with Fred and-" Dean stiffened at Cas's name, really subtlety, but Sam still saw the tick in his jaw and the tensing of his shoulder muscles. _Oh._ This was about Cas. Of course it was, who was Sam kidding?

"So it's about Cas then." Another page turn. God, Dean was so infuriating. Sam reached across the table for Dean's hand, the one that had been laying flat on the wood. Dean just happened to decide to turn the page again, but with the other hand, the one Sam had been reaching for. There was no way Dean had read two pages in that amount of time, he couldn't even have gotten in like three sentences. Besides, wasn't this the chapter about skinwalkers? Sam glanced over and confirmed, yeah it was. That entire chapter was just basically a rant and Dad's handwriting was small as fuck and that was literally the most time consuming chapter in the whole journal. So yeah, Dean was trying to piss him off. Well Sam didn't go that easy.

"Dean, you shouldn't be worried. I'm sure we'll see Cas again soon, the guy isn't avoiding us you know." Dean slammed the journal shut and stood up from the table in one swift movement, scooting back his chair and looking at Sam from above.

"Yeah, you're right. I do know." Then Dean was moving, stalking over to the couch. Sam jumped up and followed, this suddenly becoming a full-fledged argument. Yeah, Sam had absolutely not missed this part of being with Dean. 

"Dean, you can't just _blame yourself_ for everything that happens." Dean was standing in front of the motel's TV now, dangerously glowering. But he needed to _listen_ to Sam, dammit. "You aren't the reason Cas left, he-"

"He kissed me, Sam!" Dean spun around, staring defiantly at Sam, his chin a degree too high and clenched tightly, his eyes on fire. Sam stood the polar opposite, frozen in place and ice cold all over, watching the burning heat rolling in waves off of his brother. 

"What?" Sam finally managed out, swallowing. Dean lowered his chin back even, his eyes glued to Sam's. 

"Cas. Kissed. Me." Sam shifted his feet, his mouth open and tongue stuck in the side of his cheek. He didn't really even have anything to say to that. Then Dean took a step forward, slow and terrifying. Sam didn't see his brother for a moment, he saw the monster that was created in Purgatory and the demon that ruled over the torturing chambers of Hell. 

"And I kissed him back." Sam just blinked. Just stood, looking at his brother.

He couldn't decide which pissed him off the most. The fact that Cas just decided to kiss Dean, or that technically there was nothing Sam could do. Sam didn't even really have the right to be jealous. He and Dean weren't together, not anymore. But Sam still felt like someone was holding a flame too close to his chest. Like his heart was made of paper and the edge had just caught fire, slowly eating up the rest of the white space and turning it black before it crumbled into ashes and fell.

And it literally meant nothing, how Sam felt. Because he wasn't even allowed to be jealous. Dean wasn't his boyfriend, not anymore. He could kiss whomever he pleased, it was technically none of Sam's business. Except it felt like it really, really was.

Dean took another step closer, slow and deliberate. Sam at least saw it now, behind the mask of anger Dean was shoving his way. He saw how hurt Dean was, how scared he was. Scared Sam would leave him, hurt that Cas _did_ leave him. So it was like Dean was trying to educe Sam, just as though that would somehow make this easier for the both of them. If Sam was pissed, then maybe he'd make this quick. Dean was pissed at himself but needed validation for it, so he tried to get Sam pissed at him too. 

For a brief moment Sam was reminded of a conversation, years ago, after Dean had sold his soul and before he went to Hell for it. They'd been sitting at a bar, and Sam had been wicked drunk, turning to Dean and asking him, _""How do you care so little about yourself? What's wrong with you?"_ The problem was, Dean had had more than five years of hiding experience since then, hiding the way he honestly saw himself. Dean was so good at it by now, Sam forgot sometimes that it had ever been present. That it currently _was_ present. Dean hated himself and he was doing everything in his power right now to make Sam hate him too. It was sick and masochistic, but that was just Dean's mind.

Sam had no doubt that Dean and Cas had kissed, though. And Cas leaving triggered something deep and dark inside of his brother, who was trembling just slightly. Dean stood a few feet away from Sam now, looking at him expectantly. Like he was waiting for the punch to come, or the screamed "I hate you" or the "I'm leaving and I'm never coming back." _Eventually, everyone leaves me. Dad left, you left. I'm not worth it....you left me for a girl? You left me to_ die _for a girl?"_ Some part of Dean wanted Sam to bolt, to prove to Dean how unworthy and unloved he is. But Dean was the opposite. The reason they were in this mess in the first place was because Dean was too perfect, too beautiful and kind and caring, that two men had fallen deeply in love with him with no hope of escape. Dean may never see it that way.

He nodded to himself, looking away from Dean for a moment, looking around at the one-night motel room. He needed to get out of here, he needed to think. To look at everything without Dean's perfect sloping lips in front of him, lips that had been captured and kissed into sweet submission and bliss by someone else. Sam leveled his gaze back on Dean, speaking with his voice as even and calmly as he could.

"I'm going on a walk, clear my head. I'll be back." Sam didn't wait for a response, verbal or physical, didn't wait to see if Dean's eyes lit up with triumph for pushing Sam away, or if they fell with disappointment. Sam didn't want to know. 

He walked as slowly to the door as his long urgent legs would let him go, which still felt rushed and obviously uncomfortable. Then Sam was outside, out in the fresh air. The Impala was still there, still in the way of any productive thought process, so Sam started for the nearest sidewalk. He'd walk around town, clear his head that way. He started with a list, things that were given, that he knew for sure. And the exact translation of what they meant. Okay, so, given.

Cas kissed Dean first. ~ Dean wasn't _attempting_ to squander what bits of a relationship he and Sam had just built.  
Dean hadn't stopped Cas. ~ Some part of Dean wanted to kiss Cas, had even been anticipating it, maybe.  
Despite being in a semi-relationship and trying to build a solid one, Dean kissed back another man. ~ Dean had no qualms with the idea of cheating.  
Dean hadn't told Sam until Sam pestered the fuck out of him. ~ Dean was probably keeping a ton of secrets from Sam that Sam had no idea about.

Sam's walking pace faltered on that one, almost tripping as the thought crossed his mind. Secrets, that's what always ruined them. And Dean had plenty of secrets. Like Benny.

What did Sam even know about Benny anyways? What did _Dean_ know about Benny? Truly? 

If Dean was hiding secrets like kissing his best friend from Sam, Sam could only imagine the number of Benny-related secrets Dean was keeping from him. Even if Benny and Dean had never been romantically involved, Dean would still protect him from Sam. Benny could be off taking innocent lives right now, and Dean would never mention a word. If Dean hid his and Cas's relationship from Sam, he was sure to be hiding something with Benny too. Or even if he wasn't now, he would in the future. That's how Dean was.

Sam stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, taking a stride over to the nearest brick wall and leaning against it. He dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolling to the recent calls list. Sam had just found the perfect job for Martin.

Martin had called Sam during the last case, when he'd been off at the police station doing research. (Which is probably when Dean and Cas had kissed.) Sam had taken the call, greeting the man warmly over the phone. Then Martin said he was out of the psychiatric ward, and he wanted back in on the job. Sam had attempted to discourage him out of it, giving him the "chance of a normal life" and "look what happened last time" speech. Martin didn't hear any of it, just insisting that he was doing this, and if Sam could find him a job, something slow and simple to ease him back in, he'd be so appreciative. Sam had promised he'd look.

Well, now he found one. Dean's judgement calls on what to tell Sam, or Dean's judgement calls in general, couldn't be trusted. So someone, a hunter, needed to clearly keep eyes on Benny. The vampire was dangerous, but the worst part was, he was believed by Dean not to be. That was fine by Sam, he'd get his information elsewhere.

"Hey, Martin. Yeah, so listen. I've got a job for you." 

~*~*~*~

Dean was sitting on the couch cleaning his gun when the lock on the door rattled. Dean was surprised he'd come back. Although he was probably back to grab his bags, toss Dean the keys to the car and bolt. He had every right, Dean had been a total dick. It wasn't like Dean deserved someone to stay after that anyways. Hell, Dean didn't deserve someone at all.

The door swung open and Sam walked in. Dean fought against the gravitational pull of his head and refused to turn and look at him. As much as it was instinct to, Dean couldn't see the look in Sam's eyes. Couldn't watch as he packed up his bag, left Dean stranded and alone again. It was bound to happen again eventually, but Dean didn't think it'd be now. God, Dean didn't think it'd be now.

But honestly, what had he been expecting? For Sam to just jump on board, forgive him? For Cas to come back and Dean to just alternate boyfriends every other day? No, Dean made his choice, he chose to cheat on his not-boyfriend with his other not-boyfriend and now they both were leaving him because that's exactly how the real world worked. If Dean wasn't so heartbroken, he'd laugh at himself for getting into this situation. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before a million times in high school, but if you had gone back and told that Dean that fifteen years in the future it would happen again with _guys_ , two guys to be specific, he would've laughed. And probably punched whoever told him.

Sam's footsteps crossed the room and Dean carefully worked the cloth around the safety, getting out a bit of dust from between the gun metal pieces. Dean braced himself for the yelling, or the silent packing, but neither came. Sam stepped in front of the couch, suddenly coming into view and sitting down next to Dean, making the cushion sink slightly. Dean stiffened, his hands stilling on the gun. There was a silent, perfectly still moment where Dean could hear the faint sound of the lights buzz, the only sound in the entire motel room. 

Then one of Sam's gigantore hands closed over Dean's, and Dean jumped a little, his muscles tensing. He dared a glance up, at Sam's hazel eyes. Sam was looking at him with a soft determination. Dean searched his face, but couldn't find the traces of hate and _leaving_ he'd been expecting. What was going on? Was Sam planning something worse than leaving? Was there anything worse than leaving? Sam opened his mouth, his words slow and poignant.

"Don't lie to me, Dean." Dean stared wide-eyed. What game was Sam playing at? Sam's other hand closed over Dean's free one, pulling Dean's hands side by side and curling his fingers around them, Sam's palms flat against the back of Dean's hands. "Please, don't lie to me. Not anymore."

"Sam, I-"

"We're a team, okay? We have to listen to each other. And yeah, I'm pissed you kissed him. I'm even more pissed that I have no right to be pissed." Dean raised his eyebrows. He hadn't thought about that. "But that doesn't change the way I feel about you, okay? And I'm not leaving you because you kissed Cas. Okay?"

Dean swallowed, acutely aware his eyes were tearing up. He didn't deserve this, all of Sam's forgiveness and understanding. But he nodded anyways, looking down. Sam was running his thumbs over the skin on Dean's hands, like Dean was somehow the one in need of comforting. 

"We have to listen to each other, really _listen_. I'll give you a chance, and you give me a chance. We can make it like that." Dean blinked. Yeah, he definitely did not deserve this. He let out a shaky sigh.

"Sam, I'm sorry, I-"

"I know. Let's just...not talk about it for a little while okay?" Dean nodded his head again. Yeah, okay. It wasn't like he wanted to talk about kissing Cas with Sam anyways. Sam let go of Dean's hands, returning them back to Dean's lap and standing up. Then Sam clapped a hand against Dean's arm as he walked past him, heading over to his duffel.

"What do you say we blow this joint? We can go get lunch, I think I saw a diner on the way out of town that had a sign for pie in the window." Dean lifted his head and looked up at Sam, who had gone back to normal somehow, just packing his stuff in his duffel as methodically as ever. 

"Yeah, pie sounds good." Dean put down his gun on the coffee table, standing up and making his way over to Sam. Sam smiled a little at Dean's words.

"When does pie not sound good to you?" Dean reached out a hand, brushing his fingers against Sam's hip. Sam turned, facing Dean with the same slight smile on his face. Dean planted his hand a bit more firmly on Sam's hipbone, pushing down on it while going up on his tiptoes at the same time, hoisting himself tall enough to press his lips to Sam's. 

It was one of those "I'm leaving for work honey, be home at five" kisses, short and just lips on lips. But when Dean pulled away, going back down to his normal height, he felt a lot better than he had for the past day. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Sam leaned against the wall, watching as Martin ranted on about what in the world could a Winchester owe a vampire. Dean did have somewhat of a point, Martin hadn't seen Benny kill anyone. It was just a hair aware from axiomatic, but just enough that Dean could argue the other side. Dean was being surprisingly calm, eloquent even. Especially considering that Sam had put Martin on Benny in a heated moment of rage. 

"Look, until we get the facts, we stow the bloodlust and we work this case right, or we work it separately." Sam watched on as Martin went into another semi-hysterical mini-rant.

"Doing it right would be separating his head from his shoulders." Dean wasn't even bothering to listen to Martin now. He turned to Sam, his voice quiet and his eyes serious.

"I just need some time, Sammy." It'd only been a salt-and-burn and a week ago that Sam had sat next to Dean on some ratty motel couch, telling him they needed to listen to each other. Give each other a chance. Now was Sam's chance to prove to Dean he meant it. 

"Oh, yeah. Let the fang take another life? I don't think so," Martin ranted, looking from Dean to Sam. Sam ignored him now too, looking at Dean with serious eyes.

"How much time do you need?" If Dean and Sam were going to do this, if they were going to make it work again, they needed this trust between them. Not so much that more innocent people got killed, but Sam was going to trust Dean enough to at least give him some time.

"You're not actually considering this?" Martin was talking to him, but Sam didn't even glance his way. He kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking at Dean.

"Couple hours, tops." Martin got out of Sam's personal bubble and stalked to Dean's.

"And what if it turns out to be Benny?" Dean's patience snapped a little, his voice quick and sharp before he managed to calm himself down a little. 

"Then it's Benny, and I'll deal with it!" Sam was actually really surprised at how civil this conversation was going. Well, for him and Dean anyways. Sam wasn't sure he could remember a time, even pre-Purgatory, that they really talked this way, with this newfound respect for what the other one thought. Maybe it was because they were on the mend, so they had to be careful, both of them afraid of losing each other.

"Couple hours, Dean. No more." There were still innocent lives on the line here, so Sam was a fair as he figured he could be. Dean shot him a grateful look.

"I'll be in touch." Dean turned and headed for the door, Martin following him like a deranged puppy dog. Martin really wasn't in the best shape.

"H-hey. Oh, look. Hey, uh –" Dean didn't even slow, closing the door efficiently behind him, a solid click in Martin's face that actually wasn't a childish slam. Like Sam said, they were both handling this way more mature than Sam was used to. Martin walked back Sam's way, his hands up in the air in annoyance.

"You're joking, right? We're doing this as soon as he pulls away." Martin peered out the blinds, looking at Dean getting in the car below. Sam got off the wall and echoed Dean's footsteps, turning his head towards Martin. 

"No, we're not, Martin. We're gonna give him a little bit of time." Sam didn't make promises to Dean and break them because some ex-looney bin asked him to. That's not how Sam Winchester worked.

"Hey, it's your brother. It's your call. How long are you gonna let him go on like this? It's staring him right in the face." _Staring him right in the face._ Sam had heard that phrase before. He breathed out, sharply. 

"Well, sometimes it's not easy to see things for what they are." He could remember a time when everything was so gray, there was no bit of black or white to go by. Sam's mind drifted back, back to a time with a warmer sun and a big sky, back in Texas.

~*~*~*~

"Listen, Dean, we came here on a dead body. You asked for some time, and now there's another dead body. Are we just going on trust here?" Dean took a moment, looking at Sam. Sam looked torn, like he was being forced in a corner with only one escape route. And maybe it was a lot to ask, but he and Sam were doing this new on-the-mend thing that was working so far. So Dean was going to be honest. And ask for this. 

"Yes." Dean trusted Sam to trust him, they needed this.

"Okay. Because we've killed for a lot less, and you know how these things turn out for us." That didn't sound like Sam was so onboard with the whole trusting thing. Wasn't this what they were trying right now? Between them? Weren't they trying to trust each other and fix their relationship?

"Yes, I do – too well. In fact, every relationship I have ever had has gone to crap at some point." Sam's face stood stock still. Dean should have caught himself there, reworded that or something, but it was honest. Sam knew they had their ups and downs, Sam was just as aware as Dean was at just how crappy their relationship had been at times. But what Sam wasn't getting was that Benny wasn't like that. Sam needed to understand, understand why Benny wasn't the killer. "But the one thing I can say about Benny – he has never let me down."

"Huh. Well, good on you, Dean," Sam said bitterly. "Must feel great finally finding someone you can trust after all these years." 

Dean looked down. That wasn't what Dean was saying, well, it was kind of, but this wasn't Dean trying to down Sam, just make Sam realize that Benny was a good guy. If Martin wasn't in here, this would be a whole hell of a lot easier, if Dean could tell Sam it wasn't like that, honestly sit him down and tell him that he needed him, that Sam was still his everything. That in order for their relationship to be a real relationship again, Sammy had to trust Dean. To tell Sam there was nothing to be jealous of, that Benny was never anything more than a good friend, that Dean's heart was Sam's and he just _needed_ his baby with him on this one. That Dean wasn't discrediting "all these years," all the years Sam and Dean had been together. Dean wasn't throwing that away, he wasn't even setting it aside. He needed Sam to understand that, but he couldn't say it, not here. And Sam wouldn't listen if Dean tried to drag him out in the hallway. So he'd have to make do in front of Martin.

"All I'm saying is that Benny is innocent." Nowhere near everything Dean needed to say, but there was hope Sam would listen. They were trying to fix this, right? Sam looked at Dean, breathing out. He opened his mouth a little like he was going to say something, then his eyes darted over to Martin. That guy was annoying Dean more and more by the minute. Then Sam curled his lip in, refraining from whatever he was going to say. Sam put his hands on his knees and finally stood up, looking down at Dean 

"No." Sam stepped forward, a hand out to point at him. "You're too close to this."

Benny was his fucking _friend_. Dean was not going to let his brother take out the closest thing Dean had to a functional friendship because he was over here buddying up to the insanity rolling in waves off of Mr. Shock Therapy over there! Dean stepped forward too, standing a few inches away from Sam. If fucking only Martin wasn't here, then Dean could grab Sam's arm, talk some sense into him. As it was, they were probably standing way too close to not draw suspicion from Martin. Brothers, especially fighting ones who were pissed at each other, didn't stand a couple of inches away from each other. But if Sam was going to ignore him, ignore all of the faith he was supposed to have in Dean, fine.

"You're not gonna find him. And if you do, I'm gonna tell you this. You'll be lucky to get out alive." It wasn't a threat, it was Dean warning Sam, trying to keep him out of this. Then Dean took a step back from Sam and turned his head to the side, pointing at Martin. "And you, you go with him, you're a dead man – period."

Sam's voice was calm again. Okay, maybe he was trying to work through this. Maybe they could figure this out.

"These are innocent lives we're talking about, Dean. And you're willing to risk that on Benny's word alone?" Dean stood still for a moment, staring steely at the ground. Was he willing to risk that on Benny's word alone? On the word of the man who had stood beside him and fought at his back for a year? The man who turned against his own kind again and again on Dean's behalf, the man who had saved him and brought him next to Sam again? And Dean wasn't supposed to trust his _word_? Dean trusted Benny with his life, he had for a year.

"Damn right I am." Sam got this look on his face, like he was jealous but still struggling to understand. If Dean could just sit Sam down, they could figure this out. Dean got this odd tingle over his right shoulder, and turned around, just in time to see Martin's fist, gripping the hilt of a knife, swinging for his head.

Then everything was black.

~*~*~*~

"What'd they say?" Dean wiped at his neck and chest with a cloth. His head was throbbing, but he had a lot bigger fish to fry than a headache right now. 

"They didn't go for it. They're on their way to you. I'd get scarce." 

"No offense, Dean, but your little brother doesn't exactly put chills up my spine." First of all, Dean did take offense. Half of the reason Sam was the immaculate killer he was was thanks to Dean's insistence, their childhood of Dean wrestling Sam to the ground until Sam was so good at defending himself he could even beat Dean. All of the late night hours of Dean taking Sam through the shadows to the motel vending machine, teaching him how to be silent enough they wouldn't even wake Dad as they left. All of the days Dean had spent standing behind Sam, his hands over Sam's as he wrapped around him and showed him how to hit the center of the soda can every time. 

"Benny, listen to me. Do not underestimate my little brother, okay? He can and will kill you given the chance." Dean had told Sam to watch out for Benny, but when it came down to it, that was just Dean's constant worry kicking in. In a fight between the two of them, it would be a damned close chance. Benny had a hundred something years of fighting on Sam, thirty of those being in Purgatory. Dean wiped the blood off of his face, grimacing as the wound smarted. This was a whole hell of a lot less painful when Sam was doing it. Although, Dean also spent months of getting stitched up while getting peppered with kisses, so obviously this wasn't going to be quite so painless. 

"All right. So, what now?" Maybe that was Dean's favourite thing about Benny. The fact that when Dean told him somethin, like don't underestimate Sam, Benny said alright. No questions asked, no sassy comment or rebuttal or refusal. Just simple, blind trust. Something that Dean would kill to have with Sam. But Benny had damn well earned his, swing for swing. He'd been there for Dean, never given up on him and never left his side. 

And, despite being the skilled killer and planner that he was, he still turned to Dean, asking for the plan. What now? Well, Dean was going to find the vampire that was actually killing people. And he was going to throw Sam off the trail. It was a low blow, yeah, but Dean also had spent the last ten minutes getting knocked out cold, bleeding on himself and shackled to a radiator. Pretty sure he had to right to pull a couple of dick moves. Besides, Dean needed Sam out of harm's way, and there way only one surefire way to get him safe.

If Sam hated Dean for a bit, Dean could live with that. Better to have to start over with making up with Sam than to have his brother dead. Anything was better than Sam dead. So Dean would pull any stop he had to.

~*~*~*~

A phone ringing brought Dean out of his haze, looking around the car. It wasn't in his pocket, so glovebox. Dean popped it open, leaning over but still glancing back at the road. Now would be the worst time ever for a wreck, especially when Sam was off with his girl somewhere. It was painful as hell to send Sam off to her, and if it wasn't the only option, Dean would've done a million other things first. 

Not just because Sam would be pissed at Dean when he found out (which he clearly did, he was calling the dupe phone) but because, when Sam went back to his girl? There was a chance he'd never leave again. It was a risk that had nearly torn Dean apart. He'd lose the love he'd finally gotten a chance to win back again, he'd lose it all because Sam just wouldn't listen to him long enough without getting him smacked over the head and shackled up. That's not how you handle conversations, besides, look at the mess it lead to. Dean flipped open the phone, bringing it up to his mouth and sending out a quiet wish that Sam hadn't left him for his girl. Again. If Sam stayed in Texas... 

"Sammy?" There was silence for a moment, but Dean heard breathing, so Sam was at least alive.

"'Sam, I need your help. Come quick.'" There was a pause of silence and Dean clenched his jaw. A wave of guilt rushed up in his chest. "Nice one. Swapping Amelia's phone out with a burner, sending a distress signal... You got me good. When did you do that?"

"While back, in case I needed it. Looks like I made the right call." Dean almost didn't want to ask the next question, but he really had to know. He had to know. "So, did you see her?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I saw her." Sam cleared his throat. Dean couldn't tell over the phone what Sam meant. He'd hope he'd get some sort of clue to what happened, even a ranting story with details or something. But nothing. "And she's doing just fine. But, of course, you know that."

"Actually, I didn't. I did know it was the only way to get you to lay off." Dean said the last two words accusingly, because honestly Sam had cuffed him to a radiator when Dean was in the middle of having a civil conversation. Sam didn't apologize for that, by the way.

"So?" There was a pause where Dean could hear soft country music in the background, the clink of a bottle of beer on a counter. So Sam was in a Texas themed bar then, somewhere around Kermit. "Is it done?"

"Yeah, it's done."

"Any casualties?" Dean paused. The moment of silence was long, but he had to eventually say it, Dean wasn't going to lie to Sam after all of this.

"Martin."

"Was it Benny?" Sam asked the question like he already had made up his mind about the answer and how it went down.

"He had it coming, Sam. I'll tell you what happened." Dean was on his way to Sam now, but he'd talk it over the phone if he had to. 

"I-I know what happened, Dean." See? See, this is why Sam and he had problems. Sam was always assuming, never listening. If he just closed his mouth for three seconds and actually trusted Dean for once, they wouldn't fight and Dean wouldn't get knocked out and Sam wouldn't get sent on a wild goose chase to Texas.

"Okay, you want to listen to me or not?" Dean didn't even say it rudely, he said it in the voice he used when he was being as kind as reasonable as possible. And his attempt to fix this, his attempt to make things okay between him and Sam? It got responded to with the click and a beep of Sam ending the call.

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, looking down at it just in case he'd heard wrong. Nope, call ended. 

"Damn it." Sam gave up on them that easy? Wow. Dean pressed the pedal down harder, taking the car up to eighty. He was going to have to do this the hard way, banging down Sam's door until Sammy took him back. 

Because Dean wasn't sure if he could do this whole topside thing alone. Even when he and Sam had been fighting for the first few months, Sam had still been there. Still been in the same room. Still been a phone call away. And it was the only thing keeping all of Dean's ducks in a row. 

Dean had to get him back.


	101. Imperturbably (Torn and Frayed  08x10)

It took Dean a few seconds to get the courage to bring his knuckles up to the door. 118. The room was all wrong, Sammy shouldn't have chose this one. He should've picked the one at the end, the one they always picked. There was no clear driving escape route from here, and it didn't even line up to the parking lot, you had to walk a bit. Which Dean had been planning on anyways. He'd actually parked the car across the street from the motel, knowing Sam knew the rumble of its engine and would be tipped off that Dean was here before Dean could see him. And considering that Dean couldn't tell how upset Sam was, it raised a major flight risk that Dean wasn't willing to take.

But when Dean walked into the motel check-in room, saying he was shaking up with a friend, tall man, long shaggy hair? The kid at the desk goes, _"Oh, Sam! Yeah, man, 118. You gonna convince him to stay in town and take back his old job? We sure could use him around here again."_ Dean had raised his eyebrows, saying no, they weren't going to stay in town for long. T _hanks though, I'm sure you'll find another... "maintenance guy," the kid had clarified. "He could fix anything."_ Dean had smiled his fake smile and nodded. Sammy had taken a job working maintenance at shabby motel? Talk about lowering your quality of life.

Dean's heart was beating fast, and he had to take a few of those namaste yoga breath things that Sam taught him to calm down. He wasn't hyperventilating or anything, but he was nervous as hell. This was scarier than knocking on the door of Rhonda Hurley's house for prom. And her dad had a reputation for being evil. Dean finally summoned the courage though, reaching up and knocking three times, as controlled as he could. Dean imperturbably calmed his body, one of the scariest parts over.

Sam was taking forever to come to the door. Dean counted slowly, imagining where Sam would be in the room. Knock, Sam would turn his head and look at the door in surprise, maybe he was imagining things. Then Sam would decide to go see anyways, set down whatever he was doing or holding. Then Sam would stand up slowly, and walk slowly too, footsteps as quiet as possible as he approached the door. Okay, any second now it would swing open. Dean looked towards the car, across the street. When they walked back to the car in a couple of minutes, Sam would ask him why he'd parked so far away. And based on how this conversation went, he'd either snort and nod in agreement or just make a face and get in shotgun.

The doorknob turned and Dean turned his head with it, the numbers 118 swinging open to reveal Sam standing there. Recognition flashed through Sam's face, replacing the hope that had been there with disappointment and anger. He breathed in sharply, his cheekbones hollowing out and his eyes flicking away from Dean's. Sam's hand moved to swing the door shut, an automatic response to seeing Dean. Dean stood still and complacent, pretending the swiftly closing door wasn't shattering his heart. Sam stopped the door before he slipped out of Dean's sight, but his tongue was in his cheek in anger and he still wasn't looking at Dean. Sam took a moment, door half closed in Dean's face. Then he made an annoyed sigh and swung it back open.

Dean's eyes flicked up and down once, Sam fully in view now. He appeared to be okay, from what Dean could see. That always made priority number one. Dean's heart was pounding again, his lips parted as he thought of what exactly to say. Sam was looking at him like he just had to put up with big brother who drove all the way down here to see him, to take him back home to the Impala. Sam was looking at him like he'd been hoping for and expecting someone else. Sam looked at him like he would force himself to listen to Dean, just so Dean could never accuse him of not trying. Then Sam's hand let go of the door, which swung open another fraction of an inch. Dean was grateful for their ability to communicate without words because _"may i come in"_ was probably going to come out a lot more like "please don't fucking leave me for her again Sammy."

Sam didn't budge as Dean stepped inside the motel room, and Dean walked past him. Some sadistic part of his mind that wasn't already in enough pain decided to speak up. Although Dean hated having things unanswered, having to assume. So he let the words tumble out of his mouth, even though they weren't nearly the hello, i miss you i love you that Sam deserved.

"Who'd you expect?" Dean asked it while Sam was closing the door, so Dean wouldn't have to see the look on his face. The one that would confirm a reason for another heartbreak. He took in all of the surroundings, the opened beer on the coffee table. Which must have been what Sam was doing when Dean knocked.

Sam just cleared his throat, in his exasperated sort of way. Just before Sam slipped out of his peripherals, Dean saw him run a hand over his mouth in the exact same way Dean did. He'd heard somewhere that you picked up little habits from your partner- phrases, speech patterns, and hand motions. He wondered if there were any other things they did like that, similar traits that Dean never really noticed unless he'd been separated from Sam for too long.

"Long drive." Dean stopped his stroll into the room, turning around to face Sam with a hurt smile on his face.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have had to make it if you hadn't hung up on me." Sam stood strong and defiant in front of the door, both of them still as they looked at each other.

"Yeah, well, I heard all I needed to hear."

"No, you heard what you wanted to hear. I told you Benny wasn't killing. Hell, I watched him end the fangbanger that was."

"How about Martin? How did he end that?"

"Stupid – just like I said it would. Crazy son of a bitch didn't give Benny a choice. It was self-defense."

The stock-still talking finally broke, the careful glass beneath their feet shattering and revealing a new layer of thin eggshells, crunching underfoot and just as dangerous. Sam stepped forward, closing the space between them with each phrase. He spoke with his hands like he always did when he was upset.

"Seriously, Dean? That's the story you're going with?" Sam finally took one more step, bringing them about two feet apart. He leaned forward, saying the next words disbelievingly. "That the vampire was the real victim here?"

"Hey, like it or not, that's the truth, okay?" Dean finally shuffled his feet, shifting his weight. Sam had broken the scared stillness, and the proximity was actually helping Dean's heartbeat to go back to normal. They were no where near close enough, but Dean took a small step forward with his next words. "There was a time when that actually meant something."

"Yeah, yeah. No kidding." Sam nodded, his sarcastic comment stinging. Dean had no idea what it was for, but it still hurt. His head drew back, his face twisting in confusion.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked the words as levely as possible, having to hold his breath for a moment to stabilize his lungs. Sam's facial expressions exaggerated the more upset he got, and his words cut like a knife to the stomach.

"You think this is just about Benny?" Sam said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like how the hell had Dean thought this was just about Benny? Dean's entire world dropped out from under his feet, all of his attempts at "we're okay" and "i'm okay" fading in an instant. The eggshells they had been walking on just got crushed to smitherins and now Dean was falling, his feet having purchase on nothing but darkness leading to the depths of fire and chains below.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean lost his mask on "you" and his face showed a brief glimpse of the pain, of how goddamned scared he was right now. Dean had done something wrong, Dean had fucked up. He had no idea what he had done, how he'd managed to stray so far that he'd lost Sam. There was something else, something apparently obvious to Sam that stood between them. Sam had left, driven to his girl for more reasons than just Benny.

"What the hell do you think I'm talking about?" Dean drew back his head. He had no fucking idea what he could have done to apparently destroy whatever relationship they'd been in the process of building. The only thing that had changed was Dean sending Sam down here to his girl to save his ass from getting caught up in the stupid fight between Martin and Benny. Wait, his girl. This was about Sam's girl.

"Amelia?" Sam stared at him like _yes, Dean, Amelia_. Dean couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Even though it stabbed another knife in Dean's heart, that Sam cared about her this goddamned much, it was better than the alternative. At least Sam hated Dean for something that he did, not something that he was. "Oh, come on, man. I sent you that text 'cause I needed you to – to –"

"You needed me to what?" _I needed you to be safe. It was worth the risk, I needed you to be protected. It was a goddamned bloodbath, Sammy. If I had been there, I could've been killed too. I couldn't have you near that._ "To tear ass to Texas? To be afraid that what happened to Jessica, what happened to... everybody that we care about might have happened to her?"

Sam had turned around at "Texas," slowly walking back towards the door but just pacing, just adding more space between them. Dean looked down, away from Sam's retreating back. That was one of Dean's least favourite sights of Sam, watching him walk away. Even if it was when Dean was laying between the sheet and Sam was walking over to find lube or something, it still hit this certain pang in Dean's chest. Dean always opened up his arms and took a moment to just hold Sam when he got back from his trip to the duffel bags. Sam would laugh and call Dean sappy and kiss his cheek and Dean wouldn't even rebuttal the comment because maybe he was.

Sam spun back around on "everybody" and took a tiny step towards Dean, almost subconsciously. Dean finally flicked up his eyes to meet Sam's again.

"You were gonna kill Benny." Or you were going to get hurt. But Sam hated it, especially lately, when Dean tried to protect him. If Sam found out that the majority of the reason Dean sent Sam away was also so that he would be safe, Sam would throw another fit, accuse Dean of thinking Sam couldn't handle things, couldn't hold his own. They didn't need any more fighting today than there already was. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Is that what we are?" Sam paused, taking another step towards Dean and letting the words sink in. The word choice was clear and obvious. Sam was talking about their relationship, the one beyond just brothers. If he was talking about just what Dean did, he'd have said it that way. "Is that what we do?" But Sam said "are." He was looking for a definition, and accusing Dean of making that theirs. Accusing Dean of making them liars instead of lovers. The knife in Dean's heart twisted deeply and Dean almost closed his eyes against the pain. Then came the next part, and with every single step word, Sam took a step forward and bu the last words, all of the light inside of Dean died. Entirely just vanished, smothered out by what she was. What she was to Sam.

"You save a vampire by making me believe that the woman I love might be dead?"

Dean couldn't breathe. His eyes cast down, his head nodding slightly. The woman he loves. Not even loved, which Dean had thought had been the worst case scenario. No, it was present tense. Sam still loved her. Sam loved her. Maybe there was a part of him that loved Dean too, or maybe Dean had been blind and stupid and too hopeful. He was wordless, couldn't say anything for a moment. Just the simple effect that those words had on Dean was unfair, how he opened his mouth to speak and no words came out for the first few tries. When Dean finally looked back at Sam, he swallowed back the pain, taking one more shot. He had to try, one more time. Had to know if Sam loved him too, if Sam needed him too. Dean asked his first question honestly, willing to do or say anything in that moment that could fix this. Anything.

"What do you want to hear, Sam?" Sam's jaw dropped in his "i can't believe you Dean" look. Dean took a swing at something that may help. It was the truth, and Dean thought the truth was normally the best option when it came to Sam. "That I was wrong? Fine. I was wrong. Okay? But if you'd have just heard me out, if you'd have trusted me, all of this could have been avoided."

Then Sam wouldn't be making disbelieving faces at Dean and Dean wouldn't get his body stabbed with knives and fall into a pit of despair and then get his heart yanked out of his chest.

"You didn't want me to trust you. You wanted me to trust Benny, and I can't do that." Dean looked down and shook his head. Sam was right at least, Dean had been asking Sam to trust Benny. Benny who Dean had been vouching for since Sam found out about him. Benny who had saved Dean's life and brought them together again. Benny who trusted Dean blindly with his life, as Dean would for him. Benny who stood beside him, fought behind him, and never once turned up his nose at Dean's love of his life being his brother. Even with the time period he was from, Benny never once judged Dean, never thought any less of him. And even with the vampire life he lived, Benny gave all of that up and turned on his own kind, turned on his own mind and body, for Dean. With Dean. And Sam couldn't believe him when he had proof there was another vampire killing people.

"Right." Dean turned away from Sam. His brother's blindness was torture. Sam's refusal to see Benny for the incredible man he was hurt Dean in a lot of ways. Benny and Cas were literally Dean's only friends outside of Sam, and Sam wanted to kill one of them. "Okay, well, then, what the hell do we do now?"

"That depends." Sam paused, like he was waiting for Dean to turn around. Dean was busy breathing and trying not to get more upset, to jump off the cliff of his mind and just drag Sam out of here with him, regardless. Or slam Sam up against the wall and kiss him until he listened. Sam would hate him for either of those and Dean couldn't live with himself when Sam hated him. He couldn't do it. "It depends on you. On whether or not you're done with him."

Done with the man who saved his life. Sam was asking Dean to cut it off, cut off his only connection to the past year of his life, cut off one of his friends that needed him even more badly than Sam needed him right now. Benny was having a tough time of it, majorly, and Sam wanted him to just. Cut Benny off? If Benny didn't ever call Dean again, then fine. Sam had his way. But if Benny called tomorrow, needing Dean, then Dean just. Couldn't be done with him. So Dean couldn't know if it was over with his friendship with Benny or not.

"Well, honestly, I don't know." Dean turned around back to Sam. Sam stood still, just his head nodding. He looked young somehow, standing there and looking at Dean. This was it, wasn't it? Sam was nodding to end it. Dean blinked and looked at his little brother, looked at the man standing in front of him and just breathing. Looking at Dean. They didn't exchange any words with their eyes as they looked. They both just looked and thought. Sam's eyes had a smidgen of hope in them, though. Hope that Dean would open his mouth again and say, "but for you, I will Sam. I'll drop one of the best friendships I've ever had because you know what, you really just don't adore him." Sam had left him for a girl, and Dean just had a friend. Dean never loved someone else. Sam though. Sam still did.

Dean couldn't do this. He couldn't be here, not when Sam loved her. Not when Sam didn't trust Dean anymore. Not when Sam was asking him to do the most impossible thing for him. No, Dean couldn't take this anymore. His bottom lip trembled once, threatening the tears that were welling up behind Dean's eyes, the tears associated only with the feeling - Sam didn't love him anymore. He started towards the door, his eyes dropping from Sam's. If Sam didn't love him, fine. Dean would hunt on his own. Better do die with a gun in his hand because his brother hated him to much to be his backup than to stay in a place he wasn't wanted anymore, loving a man who didn't love him.

"Glad I made the drive."

Dean walked past Sam, his eyes as cold and steely as he could make them. If Dean was going to be in torturous pain for the next he didn't want to think about how long, Sam could at least feel a little guilt for turning Dean so cold. If he even cared enough to notice that. Dean opened the door and walked out, the outside air hitting him with a suffocating cloyingness. Then the door closed shut behind him and Dean's hand left the knob. He stood, head down, for a good minute or two. Just frozen outside Sam's door. Dean hadn't seen the way Sam's bottom lip curled in when he walked past, hadn't seen Sam bite down to stop himself from crying before Dean was even outside the room. Dean didn't see Sam watch him all the way out the door, didn't see Sam staring at the door for another twenty seconds after that. He didn't know that right now, Sam had plopped back down on the couch, his head in his hands and his entire body trembling with the effort not to bawl.

A single drop of moisture hit the concrete between Dean's feet where he was looking. The droplet snapped Dean back into reality and he lifted his head, wiping at his eyes and refusing to let out any more tears, instead taking off. He ran all the way to the car, barely looking before he crossed the street. When Dean got there, he swung open the door and took off, screeching the tires as he sped out of town, sped out of Texas. Never once letting his eyes dart to the rearview.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean was asleep on the couch, holding a bottle of beer and snoring. He was normally beautiful when he slept, the only time his face was ever peaceful and serene. But today his face had worry lines in it, pain and hurt etched around his eyes and mouth. And Dean didn't usually snore. Or sleep at eleven o'clock in the morning. Or drink this early either. Dean's duffel bags were unpacked and just tossed haphazardly on the floor in here. He hadn't bothered to put them in the bedroom for some reason. In fact, the bedroom appeared untouched. Apparently Dean spent the night here on the couch. And the morning.

Cas actually wasn't watching Dean for long before Dean's instincts kicked in. He fluttered opened his eyes a bit, and suddenly started, jumping halfway up with surprise. The beer in his hand sloshed over, wetting down the back of the couch and Dean's shirt. Dean looked down at the liquid, making an annoyed and surprised sound. Then he sat up all the way, lifting the beer gingerly and setting it on the coffee table.

"Damn it, Cas! How many times I got to tell you – it's just creepy!" Dean had been looking at Cas with the same annoyed look he always had when Cas woke him up. Now he looked down at his shirt, inspecting the water damage.

"Dean, I need your help. The angel Samandiriel..." Dean looked up, his eyes still a little unfocused from sleep.

"Sa..."

"He's been taken." Dean suddenly put on a serious face.

"You mean Alfie, the... wiener-on-a-stick kid?" Dean gestured with his hand, some sort of rolling motion that Cas was fairly sure was meaningless. Cas just raised a single eyebrow at the cognitive processes of Dean's memory retention. He had strange ways of memorizing things.

"Yes. I, uh – I heard his distress call this morning." Dean wiped at his eyes, trying to wake himself out of his slumbering mood.

"On what, angel radio?" Dean squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again, blinking rapidly. His post-waking up routine was a little amusing and if they were in lighter circumstances Cas might comment on it. Standing here while Dean woke himself up was strangely intimate feeling and Cas was having trouble staying still. He spent some time avoiding looking at Dean, which actually helped a lot. "I thought you shut that down."

"Well, my penance, it's going well, and I thought it was time to turn it back on. I've, uh..." Cas paused, grinning a bit. He was sure Dean would be proud of him. After all, he was the one that showed Cas how much help humanity needs. "...been helping people, Dean."

"Well, good for you." Dean seemed genuine with that comment so Cas considered it a victory. Dean looked down at the couch like it might move under his hands, then hoisted himself up to standing. He stretched out his back and faced Cas. Dean was back to being taller than him and Cas was the one who had to look up a bit now. "All right. So, who snatched Heaven's most adorable angel?"

"Crowley." Dean's curved up lips fell. If Samandririel was Heaven's most adorable angel, than what was Castiel? Heaven's most...he didn't know. He'd like to know what Dean thought, though. But Cas couldn't ask him. He nearly blushed just thinking about asking Dean.

"I'm listening." That was Dean-code for "yes, I will work with you Castiel thank you for inviting me on your mission to save a fellow angel because you think I am the most qualified for helping you with your needs and I know you enjoy spending time with me, I would like spending time with you too." Except Dean never actually talked like that, Dean said "I'm listening" instead. Which was fine with Cas, he could read enough of Dean's thoughts to know what the translations were. Cas only invaded Dean's privacy when it was really really important. He'd actually only ventured into Dean's head a few times, less than ten in the five years he'd known Dean. And the majority of those times had been Cas obeying orders from Heaven back before he was free. That was the whole point of free will, Team Free Will, that they had their privacy of thoughts and actions. So of course Cas wasn't going to go peeking around in Dean's head, even if it was awfully tempting sometimes.

(Now, watching Dean's dreams was a little different story. Dean had no conscious control over his dreams, so they therefore weren't as much his own as they were just a sort of Dean-related movie.)

But Dean took the case with him, which Cas was extremely grateful for. Even though he'd been avoiding Dean like the plauge. But he needed him now, and staying away was starting to feel a little more ubsurd every day. That is, until Cas found out that Sam was gone. He had no idea how long, or why, but that would explain why Dean was sleeping at eleven in the afternoon.

A huge part of Cas was upset that Sam was gone, knowing they could not only use the help, but that Dean was generally a much better and happier person when Sam was around. That other little part though, that part fo Cas was jumping with victory, with the chance to be alone with Dean. Although that was dangerous, because if Cas kissed him again...then all of that work, all of the heartache they had (both?) gone through would be for nothing.

Cas bit his lip in annoyance. He never could seem to get this right. Kiss Dean and the world falls apart. Don't kiss him and Cas's body aches. There was no win here, but Cas would have to find one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sam lifted his head off of the pillow, looking over at Amelia, who was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. She was dressed in Sam's shirt, which was a habit of hers during the year they were together. It just felt strange now, it made her look strangely feminine. Sam had gotten used to the old ways, which meant Dean and, obviously, a lot less femininity. Sure, Dean wore Sam's shirts, but only when they were behind on laundry or Dean just didn't feel like wearing his clothes. They spent a lot of their lives wearing each other's clothes, but that was nothing like this. Her standing there with Sam's shirt on, one Dean had actually worn a couple weeks ago, everything just felt. Wrong.

"t's official – I hate motels." Sam didn't have anything to say to that. He spent his life in motels, grew up in them, got raised in them. Some of his best memories were in motels with Dean, some of his worst ones too. He never had an attachment to motels, or even the idea of motels, but the words made something in Sam's gut squirm. It was just strange. There was a pause before Amelia spoke up again, her voice desperate. "Say something."

Sam looked at her, knowing the post-orgasmic bliss that should be all over his face wasn't there. It should have been, but it wasn't. There were too many things wrong about this, things Sam had never let himself think about when he'd been with Amelia for the year before. Now, though, they screamed to him. How they had kissed, but it only felt like Sam was kissing her, not being kissed. How he'd almost forgotten to roll to the side instead of just collapsing on Amelia. How she felt fragile in his hands, like something he could break, not something he could hold. How her pale white skin was so beautiful, but felt like a strangers with no scars to trace or freckles to kiss or golden muscle to squeeze. How after it was over, she didn't pass out in Sam's arms, she didn't nod of sleepily, murmuring some nonsense to Sam before curling into Sam's arms or pulling Sam into hers. How she wanted to talk right now, not a moment to close their eyes and rest. Say something.

"What would you like me to say? That was great? That was..." Images of Dean, pulling Sam in for a brief kiss, up on his tiptoes and blushing slightly because of it. "...a mistake?"

Sam's voice cracked a little over the last word. He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to calm down. If he got too riled up about this, Amelia would know something was up. She thought Sam was still alone, that he didn't have anyone he was cheating on someone too. Although, technically, they still weren't exactly together. It didn't feel any less of a mistake though, just because there had been no official title on them.

"I don't know. Both, I guess." Sam took a slow breath, trying to think of how he'd gotten here. It had all been because her words had been playing with Sam's mind, how she kept on saying he cared. Yeah, he did. Sam genuinely did care about Amelia. He loved her. She was beautiful and quirky and sweet, and she had been Sam's for a long time.

It sounded awful even just in his head, but the truth was, Sam loved someone a lot more than he loved Amelia. More than he ever loved anyone, or ever could again. And yeah, the man he loved was an inconsiderate douchebag, and had just as many bad things about him as good, but he meant the world to Sam.

"I understand." Amelia got this look on her face and stepped forward, walking over to the bed where Sam was still laying, almost self-conscious under the covers. It was a good thing Sam and Dean had been fighting since the moment Dean found out about Sam putting Martin on Benny, because they hadn't had sex since then. Which had been enough time for Dean's marks on Sam to fade considerably. There were still a couple of suspiciously placed bruises that matched the shape of Dean's mouth, but Amelia hadn't said anything.

"Do you? Do you understand I have a life here? A good man that loves me...a man I don't want to hurt?" Sam did understand that, better than Amelia would ever know. She was talking for the both of them, because Sam had a life out there. And he had a good man who loved him too. Or well, at least Sam was pretty sure Dean had loved him a few days ago. Dean may just hate him now. And as for the part about the man she didn't want to hurt...that spoke for itself. So yes, Sam understood. He understood all too well.

"I know." Amelia's face softened, her dark and pretty eyes honest and open.

"And do you know you're the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing before I go to sleep?" Sam suddenly froze. When she put it that way...the first word on Sam's lips every time he woke up, for all of his life, was _"Dean."_ Dean had been, always was, the first and last thing on Sam's mind. When he was with Amelia, even when he was with Jess for a while. Eventually, the last few months he had with Jess, Dean had become a thought in the back of Sam's mind that Sam could forget a few seconds after he woke up. Although every time Sam had fallen sick at Stanford, which only happened a few times in the four years he was there, Dean was the only word on Sam's lips. That was how Jessica had found out about Dean.  
~*~  
Sam had been dating Jess for three months before he managed to get food poisoning, thanks to his friend Brady and his stupid ideas. He'd spent the morning puking, then he'd laid back on the couch, groaning in pain at the cramps in his stomach. He'd had his eyes closed and his teeth clenched when suddenly a cold wet cloth was placed to his forehead.

"Dean," Sam had pleaded, reaching up a hand to blindly grab at who he thought was his brother. He'd gotten ahold of Jessica's wrist instead, which didn't feel like who it was supposed to. Sam had opened his eyes, blinking a few times to register that there was long blonde hair leaning over him, not softly gelled spikes and piercing green eyes.

"Sam? Who's Dean?" Jessica had asked him later, after Sam was better. The incident with mistaking Jessica for Dean actually happened four or five times during the duration of the two days Sam had been sick. But when Dean's name jumped out of Jessica's mouth, Sam's entire body tensed up. She'd looked at him expectantly, an almost jealous glint in her eyes.

"No one." Sam has replied curtly. One of the reasons Sam had been attracted to Jess through, was her fierce will and stubborn nature. Maybe because Sam was subconsciously trying to fill the hole in his life that Dean had left. Jess had been a lot like Dean. They even shared a birthday.

"You thought I was him the entire time I was taking care of you." Sam had clenched his jaw, angry that he'd had a moment of weakness, pleading for his brother the second something went wrong.

"Yeah, well, he's gone now. So it doesn't matter." Jess had dropped the subject then, able to recognize the pain and bitterness in Sam's voice and back off.

But less than a week later, they'd been out shopping for books when Jess had shouted his way, grinning and holding up a book she found. Zeppelin IV: The story behind the symbols, songs, and singers. Sam had laughed, the words slipping out of his mouth before they even registered in his brain.

"I bet Dean's got that whole thing memorized." Sam had clamped his mouth shut so fast after that he almost bit off his tongue. Jess's eyes had widened, then she looked down at the book, turning it around. Sam had quickly turned back to the shelves, his heart pounding in his ears. Jess didn't say anything for a long time, they both just scanned the rest of the shelf in silence and moved on to the next one. Sam's heartbeat was just about to slow to normal when Jess had turned to him again, holding up another book.

"What about this one? He a Jovi fan?" Jessica's voice was casual, like she hadn't just brought up the one thing Sam had been avoiding thinking about for the past year. The book in her hands was Jon Bon Jovi's biography. Sam stared at it for a moment before his mouth twitched up in a small smile.

"No, he says Jon and Rich are only tolerable on occasion." Jess had bobbed her head sideways in a "yeah, i guess i could see that" gesture then put the book back in the shelf. They'd gotten their books, none of them about any form of classic rock, and had walked back to the campus. Sam hadn't gotten much sleep that night, a few locked away memories seeping past the wall Sam had shoved them behind. He kept turning over Dean's name in his mind, his eyes staring at a dark ceiling above him.

After that, they slowly got to mentioning Dean more and more, once at a restaurant a few days later, (Jessica had tipped the salt over and threw a pinch behind her shoulder - "Dean did that once and it landed in some little kid's ice cream" - laugh, "did it really?" - "yeah." silence.) another few times that Jess brought him up, asking little side questions. Sam eventually got to the point that he could hear Dean's name without cringing, and even say it without wanting to cry. Jess just seemed genuinely interested in anything in Sam's life that had such a powerful affect to him that he murmured Dean's name in his sickness.

Over the next few months, Jess slowly learned that Dean loved his car, music, and messing with Sam. That his diet was literally the opposite of her boyfriend's, that his eyes were green. It wasn't until Jess's birthday that she found out she shared that with Dean, which she'd actually been way too understanding about. "Let's do something fun and forget all of our worries, yeah?" Sam had been moping, and feeling guilty about it, but Jess was forgiving and actually did make Sam forget about Dean for a little while.

All of the talk about Dean had stopped abruptly though, all because of a single conversation. Jess had been complaining about Brady complaining about his annoying siblings. "I don't understand why Brady doesn't just get along with his sister. I swear, it's like he thinks they were born on different planets!"

"Yeah, it was like that for Dean and I sometimes too." Sam hadn't looked up from the math paper in front of him, dividing out the antiderivative and barely listening to Jess's rant. She'd fallen into silence though, and Sam eventually recognized that she was staring at him. He'd glanced up, and seen her staring at him with her jaw slack. Sam had raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Dean's your brother?" Sam had snorted softly.

"Uh, yeah."

"I thought he was...I mean, the way you talk about him. Your eyes just light up and..." Jessica trailed off, her words kind of just fading. Sam could practically see the one thousand things she was thinking. He softened his tone, his voice turning low and probably a little scary.

"You thought he was what?" Jess bit her lip, looking at Sam like he was a nuclear warhead on a time clock with only five seconds left.

"I thought he was your boyfriend." Sam had stared at her in silence for a minute or two. Then he'd stood up and announced he was going on a walk. Jess had tried to counter her argument, apologize, say she didn't mean anything by it. She wasn't trying to insult Sam or anything. Sam had just brushed her off, said he was fine, he'd be back in a bit. He'd stepped out into the abnormally chilly air and walked with his head down and his hands stuffed in his pockets. When he'd gotten back to their apartment his cheeks and nose were red and his lungs were complaining. Jess had made him tea and tried to apologize again, but Sam stopped her with a hand on her arm. She'd silenced then, thankfully understanding that Sam couldn't talk about this anymore. And they didn't, Sam never mentioned Dean's name again. Not until the night Dean had shown up in their apartment, a few months later.

Sam could still remember the look on Jess's face as she'd switched on the light, her observant eyes taking in how close they were standing, how Sam's hair was ruffled and how Dean was sharp and beautiful. The way Dean called her boyfriend Sammy, the first forbidden rule Sam made clear to everyone he knew. When Jess had said "Dean, as in your brother Dean?" Sam was pretty sure she almost called him something else instead of brother. She didn't though, and Sam had been so grateful at the time.  
~*~  
Now, looking back on it, the whole memory seemed strange. How even back then, Sam had been defiant, too defiant of anything with Dean. Sam hadn't really admitted his feelings fully to himself until after he realized Dean had sold his soul and was dying for Sam. Even then, they'd danced around actually loving each other that way for years. The fact that they were related took a long time for them to get past. Which was understandable.

And now they were dancing around each other again, running away and sprinting back over and over. And then Amelia was sitting propped on the edge of Sam's bed, wearing nothing but his shirt and a sad smile as she spoke again.

"It's tough to let something like that go." Amelia was talking about them, but the first place Sam's mind went was to Dean. Jess had helped Sam prove to himself just how tough it was. Sam wasn't sure he ever could let Dean go.

"Yeah." But Amelia offered to him a life, a real life, with no blood and monsters and nightmares. A taste of what Sam had been craving since he could walk - a normal life. To just live without the worry that the brother next to you could get his neck snapped any second now. The toll it took on Sam to watch Dean die was so painful it might be worth it to leave Dean, if Sam never had to go through that pain again. Better to know that Dean was okay somewhere, even if it was apart from Sam, then to watch Dean get ripped apart again.

"Especially if you keep showing up here." Amelia's voice was still soft, or maybe Sam was just used to the gruff of a lower voice. He had a feeling she was trying to be stern though, with the way she was looking at Sam so intensely.

"Are you saying you want me to leave?" If Amelia said that, Sam would go. He'd give up the chance of a life where he didn't spend every second in constant fear his brother would be ripped from his arms again. But if she told him he couldn't stay, it also meant she made the hard choice for him. And Sam would have to go figure out what he was going to do, either be on his own or try to fix things with Dean. But of course, nothing was that easy.

"I'm telling you that if you stay, against everything I believe in, I would be with you." So this was the offer of a life time. Sam could have a house, a dog, a beautiful woman to share it with. No worries, no more nights cold and shivering in the physical pain of Dean's death. "But if you leave... don't come back. I can't have you with one foot in my life and one foot out there doing... whatever it is you do. That life of yours I have no idea about."

"You don't want to know about it. Believe me." If Sam was going to do this, he needed a clean break. No monsters, no angels and demons. Just a new man and a new life. If that's what he did. He looked at Amelia calculatingly. "It's a big step."

"'For me or you?"

"Both. I..." _I have someone too, the only someone I ever wanted._ "...need to think about this. You need to think about this. Words will never cover what you mean to me – what you'll always mean to me, but we should..."

"Think about this." It was true, Amelia did mean so much to Sam. Amelia saved him in a way, she saved his life and she gave him hope for a world he never thought could be his. It wasn't just Amelia Sam loved, it was the idea of everything she brought with her. The idea of normalcy, a home. "Okay. How about two days from now, around 7:30? I'll be off work then. One of us will be here, and we'll know. Neither of us will be here... and we'll know. Or both of us will be here... and we'll know."

Sam nodded. Now he got two days, two days to evaluate and choose.

It wasn't like he was just choosing between two people, because if it was just that, it wouldn't be much of a competition. Dean was his world, and always had been. But Sam was choosing between a lot more than that, he was choosing between two people and the futures that came with them.

Amelia, who he may not love as much as Dean, but who still loved him dearly and offered him a life of safety and simple joys, a life of love and smooth sailing and happiness.

Then Dean, who was the disaster Sam couldn't let go of. Dean made him weak and codepedent, promised a life of pain and blood and tears. A short life at that.

For some reason, it was the hardest decision Sam had ever had to make.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Wow, will you look at that? Our ninth abandoned factory. Ain't that America? Hey, what do you say, this doesn't pan out, we head back to that beer-and-bacon happy hour about a mile back, huh?" Dean looked over at Cas with a smug grin on his face. Cas was like 93% sure Dean might have just asked him on a date. His heart was pounding, even though it was just lunch, but going to eat with Dean...Cas would be a wreck. Dean was just automatically flirty anyways, and sitting across from him in a little booth while the entire restaurant assumed they were together was going to be absolute torture.

Cas had already been questioning some of Dean's motives earlier, like the suit he wore. Cas knew Dean and Sam always coordinated their outfits, it made them look more official, but Dean had gone all out. He wore a blue shirt and a blue tie, matching Cas's perfectly. Cas didn't even know Dean owned a blue button down. It was making Cas squirm, the idea that Dean had dressed intentionally to match him. And he'd looked simply gorgeous in it. Although he looked simply gorgeous now too. They'd stopped back at Dean's motel earlier so Dean could change. Cas had dutifully turned away, although he could have used his celestiel powers to still watch Dean if he wanted to. And he had wanted to, but he had somehow managed to resist the urge. Cas was fairly sure seeing Dean in black boxer briefs and no shirt on would either short-circuit his system or make him just grab the man and slam him against the nearest level surface, take their relationship past the point of anything they'd done before. So yeah, Cas had managed to keep both his vessel's eyes and celestiel vision turned away. Somehow.

And now Dean was (probably unintentionally) taunting Cas again. Suggesting they go out to eat, like a couple would, looking over at Cas with this adorable hopeful smile and Cas really needed a reason for them not to go. He zoomed in on the men standing around the trash can, changing the frequencies in his eyes to see everything's true being instead of physical form. Cas used to see everything this way, just using angel vision all the time. And Dean in angel vision was just as gorgeous as his human body was. His soul glowed and radiated, making everything around him a few degrees warmer. But seeing Dean's body felt more real, more like Dean was a person who might love Cas. So Cas didn't ever really use his angel vision around Dean, which is why he had to manually turn it on to scan the men.

Oh good, they were demons.

"Wait a minute, Dean. Those derelicts, they're demons. I can see their true faces." So we aren't going out to eat and taunting me even more.

Dean lifted binoculars to his eyes and looked through at the men standing around the drum. He turned the gaze, probably spotting the other man on the balcony above them.

"Crowley's got that many hell monkeys outside, he's got to have at least double inside." With the threat of more unwordly temptation from Dean dissipated for the moment, Cas let all of his senses focus back on the case. There was this tug, the urge for Cas to leave this place. Great.

"And angel warding. I can feel it." Dean looked over at Cas again, fixing him with those pretty green eyes. He looked a little concerned, like he wanted to ask Cas if he was okay. Cas had dealt with a lot worse than the draining of some angel warding lately.

"Well, you, me, and a demon knife ain't gonna cut it." Cas sat in silence for a moment. He may not want to, but Dean was referring to it, so Cas could do this. He'd suck it up and get over it.

"Okay. I'll get Sam."

"No." Dean looked over at Cas angrily and roughly put the binoculars down. "We don't need Sam."

Cas looked at Dean confusedly. How else were they supposed to get help? "But you just said –"

"Look, if Sam wanted in, he'd be here." Dean met Cas's eyes and for a moment Cas saw the same man he'd pulled out of hell, a broken shell of someone pretending they were fine. The very tone of voice Dean was using showed just how upset he was, how much he was hiding. Cas got the distinct impression that when Dean said "in" he really meant "me." _Look, if Sam wanted me, he'd be here_. Cas knew for a fact that wasn't true because Cas wanted Dean all the time and he avoided him all the time. So Sam still wanted Dean just as much as he ever did. 

Cas might have told Dean that too, if his voice hadn't suddenly softened and his eyes hadn't gotten just a hint of moisture at the corners. His voice was apologetic, like he didn't want to offend Cas by snapping. Like this was all somehow Dean's fault. 

"Okay?" Cas looked away, sighing in exasperation. Dean could have everything, Dean was everything, and all he ever did was think the opposite. It was tiring, trying to convince him of how perfect he was. Dean turned away too, both of them upset for the opposite reasons.

Dean spoke up again, his stubborn stupid beautiful head always needing to have things his way. 

"I got a better idea."

~*~*~*~*~

Sam was sitting on a bench in the fresh air, watching people pass by, each of them happy and smiling at the person at their side. Sam tried looking and picturing walking that way, imagining who he saw next to him. The problem was, he could see either. Holding Amelia's delicate hand in one hand and Riot's leash in the other. Or he could see walking next to Dean, arms brushing, comfortably in stride and talking over something important. 

Suddenly Cas was next to Sam and Sam jumped, nearly falling off the bench. He breathed out quickly. Wow, that was really intense, no wonder Dean was always complaining.

"Watching humanity never gets old, does it?"

"Hey, Cas." Sam turned back to the street and watched more people walk. Sam wasn't going to move, and Cas was clearly here for a reason, so he could tell it to Sam while Sam was trying to figure out his life crisis.

"I, uh, I need your help."

"Yep, pretty much figured you didn't come to check on me." Cas shot a side glance at Sam, his words as awkward as ever.

"Well, I uh. I could come and check on you if you wanted to, I just. I mean, I didn't think I was someone you'd want to see after you and Dean-"

"Cas. What do you need?" Sam looked back at Cas and scooted out a bit to see him better. Dean's name, spoken out loud, Sam just couldn't. He couldn't talk about Dean, how he'd used him and _left_ , choosing a vampire over him. Sam wasn't even pissed at Cas for kissing Dean anymore, it was understandable. If the positions were reversed, Sam probably would've done the same. Let's just say Sam definitely understood what Cas saw in the man.

"An angel Samandiriel, uh - Alfie - got kidnapped by Crowley and we're saving him, but we need backup."

"We meaning you and...Dean." Cas looked down at the ground. Sam had to pause before he said Dean's name. This was ridiculous. 

"Um. Yes. We can't do it without you Sam, and Crowley's torturing him. I heard his screams, and when an angel screams-" Cas had switched into rambling mode, and Sam couldn't stand here delaying the future any longer. He interrupted Cas, taking a step forward as he spoke.

"I'll help you Cas. Don't worry about it." Cas sighed in relief. He reached out an arm, his hand extending two fingers to Sam's forehead. 

"Thank you, Sam." There was another flutter of wings sound and then Sam was getting his footing, suddenly on Garth's houseboat. Dean was facing the wall, looking over a plethora of Kevin's notes. He was wearing his green jacket, the one Sam used to tell Dean complimented his eyes. 

"I got what we need," Cas said, facing Dean too. Dean turned around, speaking as he looked to Cas.

"Well, it's about time." Dean's eyes landed on his, widening slightly before narrowing a lot. Great, absolutely nothing had changed. Dean turned his gaze back on Cas, addressing him instead of Sam.

"What's he doing here?" He literally just referred to Sam in the third person. Like Sam wasn't even standing right here. It stung, actually, more like it burned. Sam snapped back a retort, instantly putting up defensive walls against some of the most painful words Sam had ever heard out of Dean's mouth. If Dean had said "I hate you" to Sam it would have hurt less. Because that, Sam could convince himself was a lie. But Dean not wanting Sam here? Turning to Cas instead of him? Sam could very easily believe that.

"Don't worry, Dean. Once we save Alfie, I'm out." If Dean didn't want him here, fine. Sam wasn't going to piss Dean off anymore than he already was.

"Oh, once "we" save Alfie. Don't hurt yourself, Sam. Cas and I can handle it." There was venom in Dean's words, but Sam would have cherished them if he had known that they were the only ones Dean would say to him for the next hour and a half. 

"Not according to Cas." Sam matched Dean's intensity in his glare and shoulders. Sam couldn't match the pouting anger in Dean's lips though, no one would ever be able to match those lips. Those lips that Sam entirely 100% totally hated, yeah.

"I told you we didn't need him." Dean turned back to Cas and his expression was one that made Sam feel entirely like shit. And an outsider. Like he wasn't only unneeded, he was unwanted and unwelcome in a lot of ways. Dean looked at Cas like he wanted the angel to come over there and zap them both as far away from Sam as possible. Cas (thankfully) didn't obey Dean's nonverbal request, instead fixing him with a pissed glare too.

"We need everything, Dean. And I need both of you," Cas looked accusingly at Sam too, "as you say, to stow your crap. Can you do that?" 

Both Dean and Sam looked at each other as a response to Cas. Dean was so stupid and beautiful and it pissed Sam off even more. He just thought he could walk out on Sam, or even worse, he thought Sam would just come running back with him because he asked him to. Wait, no. Dean didn't even ask him. Dean just fucking _walked out_. Because Sam asked him not to put Sam before a _vampire_. Sam hadn't been done with that conversation, things hadn't been over with him and Dean. Dean was the one who ended it and Sam wasn't going to sit here and endue his stupid brother's stupid annoyance with Sam for whatever stupid reason he was annoyed and decided to walk his stupid fine ass out the door.

Sam was continuously on this rollercoaster all day. He'd catch Dean looking at Dean and his heart would melt and he'd want to just run over and apologize, pull Dean into a hug and say he was sorry, he just couldn't stand losing anyone in his life, let alone Dean. Then Sam would catch _himself_ looking at Dean and curse under his breath and think of all the stupid annoying things Dean would do and he'd get even more pissed than he was before.

He was a mess.

Then Dean went and saved Sam from the demon, and that really wasn't a surprise for Sam, but when he got up and turned around, breathing heavy, he saw a flash of something more familiar in Dean's eyes than lust was. There was that fear there, that instinct that _what if Dean hadn't been there._ Or he'd taken five seconds longer around the corner. Dean was suddenly scared he might lose Sam, for real. Even though it was just some low life demon who got the jump on him, even if he probably would have been able to save himself. (maybe.) There was still that flicker of possible death that set Dean's mind back a few feet away from the anger and hate he was shouting at Sam. 

Then came the fight, and Sam could feel the half of his soul combining with the half of Dean's as they brushed through the door, adrenaline pumping through them. When their bodies stopped touching seconds later, they were synced to each other again and Sam could feel every step Dean made. He had this constant awareness of every muscle twitch in Dean's body, and once the real swinging fists started, it was like Sam was participating in one fight but feeling two. 

By the time they'd finally kicked enough demon ass to consider it a win, Cas and Samandiriel were gone. Dean automatically ran towards the door, then paused and looked behind him, catching Sam's eye and waiting for him to catch up. And Sam realized he wasn't actually pissed at Dean anymore, not when they were better as a team. Better together. And yeah, it still hurt that Dean had left. But Sam had practically pushed him out the door with his words. 

Sam distinctly recognized in the back of his mind that this was going to make his upcoming life decision much harder, now that Dean was back on Sam's mind. That is, if Dean even let him stay. If Dean wasn't as mad either. But they had much bigger issues to worry about, like wherever the hell Cas had vanished off to with Samandiriel.

~*~*~*~

"So, what, you think someone's messing with him or something?" Cas had vanished (again) after declaring he had to return Samandiriel's body to heaven. While there was blood coming out of his eye. Dean had minorly flipped out, but it was more worry than anger this time, so Sam wasn't too worried. Besides, even if Dean had slept with Cas while Sam was gone, Sam had slept with Amelia. Not that that made either one anymore okay. That is, if Dean and Cas had been together. Sam had a strange, probably vain, idea that they hadn't been.

"Who?" Yeah, right, how do you mess with angel? Unless of course you are one.

"Angels?"

"Why would the angels have him kill another angel?" Humans did that all the time. Sam shrugged though, the whole angel-human comparison not exactly being valid evidence. Dean stared off into space for a second, then he turned to Sam. 

"You know what, man? I got this. You go." Sam turned his head toward Dean. 

"What?" It was an automatic reaction question, like he hadn't heard Dean or didn't understand what he was saying. Which actually he didn't. Dean blinked long and slow then looked up at Sam's eyes, his voice low and gruff like it hurt him to talk.

"Don't you have a girl to get back to?" Dean fixed him with this look and Sam raised his eyebrows and looked away. He'd totally forgotten about Amelia, about the plan to be at the motel or not. But yeah, Sam apparently did have a girl.

"Yeah. I guess I do." Sam said surprisingly, because he'd never really thought of Amelia entirely like that. Like she was Sam's in some way. But when Dean said it, Sam could see it. "Um..."

Sam looked up, a little overwhelmed with it all. Dean was looking back at him, a look that said "I told you so" and "I'm getting ripped apart on the insides" at the same time. Sam raised his eyebrows and looked back. Dean looked so blatantly in pain it was surprising. Dean was like the biggest emotion hider of all time. 

"Since when are you on the Amelia bandwagon?" If Dean approved of Amelia...Sam didn't even know what to do with that new bit of information. It would make choosing a normal life, well, Amelia, a lot less painful. Dean shook his head, looking down and starting to walk past Sam, his face overwhelmed and hurting.

"I don't know." He kept his head down til he passed Sam. Like maybe he'd cry if he looked up. "I'm just tired of all the fighting."

Sam watched Dean's back. This was just like Dean, to throw aside his feelings and everything he thought because he wanted to fix a conflict. He opened up the fridge, taking out a beer and turning back to Sam.

"And, you know, maybe I'm a little bit jealous." Sam looked at the man he'd laid beside for years, the only person Sam put above everything and everyone. That man, jealous. And admitting it. Dean, who had it all. Jealous because Sam had a normal life, a girl. Or maybe jealous _of_ the girl. Of course Sam had toyed with that idea before, it that was why Dean hated Amelia so much. They'd both slept with other girls in the past few years, but. Not since they started dating. Sam didn't know Dean was that committed though, that Sam liking Amelia would make him jealous enough to admit it.

"She got you, you know? And I could never separate myself from the job like you could. Hell, maybe it's time for at least one of us to be happy." Dean threw the bottle cap on the last word, watching it bounce and clatter before turning back to Sam. 

"What, you being such a big hugger and all?" Sam huffed and Dean made his "what are you gonna do" face, tipping his beer a bit to exaggerate. Then the laughter suddenly died as Sam thought about. _Time for at least one of us to be happy._ Sam had been happy with Dean, he had. Back during the brief times when they weren't about to die or get killed at every corner. There had been days, there had been a time where everything was beautiful. It was Sam and Dean and the car and a wendigo waiting in the woods. Now there was Purgatory and angels, and Cas, and Benny. Amelia. Sam was happy with her too, but a different kind of happy. More like content. He shrugged a little, needing Dean to know everything. Needed to know the truth.

"She does make me happy, and she could be waiting for me if I went back. I'd be a very lucky man if she was." Dean tilted his chin up at that, the way he did when he was realizing something for the first time, or politely disagreeing with Sam. It could be either right now. Sam trained his eyes on the floor. He didn't know how to say this next part, how to decide. He was pretty sure that saying "I love you, too, Dean" would not be the most affective thing. Dean would snort, walk away, or go barging out the door like before. Sam had to give Dean a reason for him to stay that didn't include Dean. Dean needed to know Sam believed in the life, believed in the job. That Dean wasn't tying him to anything, holding him down against his will. And it was true, Dean wasn't. Sam stayed for Dean, he did, but there were other reasons too.

"But now... with everything staring down at us, with all that's left to be done... I don't know." Dean raised his eyebrows and looked away. He looked quite surprised, actually. Like he'd been expecting "we had something special at one point" speech that would be a hell of a lot easier to give. But Sam was telling the truth. There was something in this life that called to him, he felt like it wasn't over yet. They were no where near a stopping point, and besides, Dean needed someone to watch his back and not get him killed. And with Cas in cuckoo land, Sam couldn't count on the angel picking up his slack. Not that Sam ever had, he didn't like to think of Dean with Cas. It was sometimes a small comfort though, knowing someone else would do anything in their power to help Dean.

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"Well, I do know this –" Dean took a step forward, eyes on Sam and glowing. Another step, he was getting closer to Sam with each word. "Whatever you decide, decide."

Dean stopped walking, his chest about eight inches away from Sam's, his head tilted up a bit to keep their eyes locked. "Both feet in or both feet out. Anything in between is what gets you dead."

That was just what Amelia said. It was fair, fair of them to ask. They both needed Sam fully in their life, or fully gone. Both asked for Sam to chose between them, even if Amelia didn't know that she was up in competition against Dean.

"Yeah, I keep hearing that. I'm gonna..." Sam's eyes flickered down for just a moment, glimpsing at Dean's lips before meeting his eyes again. There was no way Sam could think when Dean was this close to him, when Dean was right here. Sam could not make essential life decisions when his judgement was clouded by his brother's gravity. "Take a walk. Clear my head."

Dean looked at him and nodded a little, and Sam was out the door. He was hoping that Dean wasn't going into self-destructive mode, the way he did when Sam took walks and Dean thought Sam wasn't coming back. Which had only happened twice, but they were both poignant enough memories to stick.

Now, as the chill of the wind air snapped into Sam's cheeks, he turned his head down, letting the top of his head battle the cold until he reached tree cover. There was just a small walkway in front of Rufus's cabin that faced the north wind and was a total bitch at this time of day. Then the cold evened out and Sam lifted his head back up, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He walked briskly, letting the muscles in his legs worked at the same time his brain did. Walks always were more efficient when you worked out a little. At first he just took the slow counts of his legs, counting each step and reaching twenty four before starting to count back down again. Then he stopped, physically stopped, and looked up at the mountain. Why had he stopped at twenty four? It was a good number, literally divisible by almost everything. But was there some subconscious rea- Dean's birthday. January 24th. 

Sam nodded to himself and resumed his walk, not counting his footsteps this time. He looked at trees instead, looked at the ones that grew alone or in patches, the ones that grew towards each other and away. Those were the trees that he noticed the most. And he started take note of why, of how some had more shade on certain sides or sun on others. He and Dean were like that, they had little factors affected their individual lives and made them grow together or apart from each other. Sam made it all the way out to the edge of one of the cliffs, keeping his distance from the tip and just looking out at the mountains and valley in front of him.

Sam already knew he was staying. He was pretty sure he'd known all along. But standing here, looking out at everything. Sam could see it all.

He could see how badly he wanted a normal ending, a normal life. He could also see how when he had that, these mountains somehow wouldn't be beautiful anymore. They'd be interesting, even photo-worthy. But not beautiful.

No, what made something beautiful was the potential that it held. And the fierce dangers that contrasted the gentle slopes. That was Dean to a tee. The mountains before Sam were something like his brother, golden and freckled and majestic. In all reality, they were wild creations of nature's imagination, all stiff peaks and sharp ledges and dangerous animals. But from afar, simply nothing but beauty. That was Sam's life too, or it could be. It would be that way with Dean. When Sam was with Dean, everything was brighter. Dean's eyes reflected this glow onto everything they touched, and Sam got to see everything in the world with the second set of eyes, the one that was first to witness the shape left from the look of Dean's eyes.

There was something perfect about life with Dean that was so very terrifying. Because it could slip away so easy. Just like standing at the edge of a cliff. The most beautiful sight in the world, then you lost your footing and it's all over so fast you don't get a chance to breathe.

But it was worth the view, if you had someone holding onto you from behind. And for Sam, that someone he pictured was Dean.

Sam walked into the living room with two bottles of beer and two bowls of food, setting Dean's down on the coffee table in front of him. Dean sat up, scooting over a bit to give Sam more room. Dean's agile hands removed the cap from one bottle and set it down in front of Sam, then opened up his own beer. Sam picked up his beer, weighing it in his hand. He turned to look at Dean the moment Dean turned to look at him. 

They both just looked for a moment, Dean silently asking Sam what he decided. If this was their last meal together or the first for them as a couple again. Sam made sure he saw that right, then nodded at Dean. Yes, yes it's you and me again. I chose you, over my girl, for now and forever. Sam almost wanted to say it, almost wanted to make sure Dean knew. But Dean looked down and tipped back his drink, and Sam lost his courage for a moment or two. He'd could save all the confessions and official titles for later, back when Sam was sure Dean wasn't going to pull another _Glad I made the drive_. Sam didn't think he would though, somehow. Then they sat in silence together and finished their dinner.

Things were looking Sam's way after all.


	102. Regal (Larp and the Real Girl  08x11)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know if I should say this because it's fairly obvious in the title but hey anyways. Roleplay and porn woohoo!

"Look, we both have had a rough go of it the past couple of weeks. And I know what you gave up wasn't easy." Dean looked over at Sam, his brother returning his gaze solemnly. Dean it must have been tough on Sam, giving up the hope of a normal life. Giving up his girl, for Dean. Honestly, Dean was elated about that. Losing Benny, well that sucked. But Dean would be okay, he'd move on. He just hoped Sam would do the same. And what he needed, was a distraction.

"And, uh... I know what you gave up wasn't easy. Maybe we ought to take the night off – go see a flick, hit a bar or two, have some fun. You remember fun, don't you, Sammy?" So yeah, Dean did just ask Sam out on a date. A movie, actually. Which was major ricketing off the girly scale, but hey. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"As in a date?" Sam's voice sounded skeptical and Dean was suddenly nervous. Maybe it was too soon. Sam had made the decision about Amelia like a week ago, but Dean figured he'd probably be fine again now. It wasn't like he was asking Sam to be his boyfriend again or anything, just a movie night. Hell, a movie night as brothers would be better than the boring lives they'd had lately. Just researching, looking for Cas, looking for anything to help Kevin. 

"Well, it doesn't have to be." Dean shot a side glance at Sam, but he was just staring forward. Dean sucked in a breath. What was it about Sam that made him so nervous? Dean had hit on a million girls in his time but his little brother always got him tongue-tied and awkward. Only when he wasn't sure where his barrier between brother and boyfriend (which they weren't) stopped and started. "I mean, if you don't want it to-"

Sam's phone suddenly rang, echoing in the car and cutting into the conversation. Sam reached in his pocket and pulled it out, putting it to his ear.

"Kevin, what do you got?" Dean exchanged glances between out the windshield and over at Sam. Sam was looking out the windshield while he spoke.

"Garth. Hey." Dean looked at Sam again, but Sam still didn't return his gaze. Dean nodded slightly and bit his lip, turning back to face the road again. Sam clearly was still not in a fun-and-joyous mood. It was too bad, Dean could really do for a movie date right now. Dean listened quietly to what parts of the conversation he could hear, which was basically just yeah's from Sam. He kept looking over, noticing Sam's folded in body posture that was leaning him up against the window, like he wanted out of the car. Or maybe out of this life. Or maybe Dean should stop worrying.

Sam hung up with Garth and relayed Dean what details he had of the case, and Dean just nodded. Finally Sam pursued his lips, looking out the passenger window.

"Working a case. As long as we're waiting on Kevin, that'll be our fun." Dean blinked and turned his head to Sam. Sam didn't look back, the same neutral look on his face. Dean seriously needed to loosen Sam up if his idea of fun was working a case. Seriously. 

He had quite a few good ideas to do that, too. If only Sam would let Dean back in. It was like Sam had slammed the doors on him and now they were communicating through a window. They had slept on opposite sides of the bed for the past week, which had been cold but a lot better than it was if Sam wasn't there at all. Last night they'd slept back to back, which meant at least they were improving. 

But Sam was acting like he didn't want to, he wanted to stay mopey for the rest of eternity. Dean needed something monumental, needed to jumpstart them into the path of enjoyment and fun again. And sex, that'd be nice.

~*~*~*~

They walked into the tent, and Dean looked over at Sam before scanning the decor. The tent is decorated with a rug, small statues, lanterns and a table with fancy chairs. It was intense and actually a little legit.

"Charlie."

"Charlie Bradbury is dead. She died a year ago. You killed her. My name is Carrie Heinlein. Oh, and guess what. Now you killed her, too." Dean nodded, ignoring the overdramatics. If Charlie wanted to have an overdramatic war Dean could win that one every time. He'd give her the chance to back out first though, just blowing off her exaggeration.

"Okay, listen, uh..."

"No, I buried myself. Then Dick Roman went down, his company belly-up, and I figure, "Hey, it's all good," and I was fine. I got my life back. Now you're here, and if you guys are here, monsters are here. Why do I have such bad luck? What am I – some kind of monster magnet? Is there such a thing as a monster magnet? You know what? Don't answer that. I don't care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken... or dying. So... I'm dropping my sword and walking off the stage, bitches." 

Charlie walked past Dean and put the crown on his head on her way to the door. Dean stood frozen for a moment before he turned around. (absolutely not making a point to keep his head level and not knock off the crown) "Have fun storming the castle."

"Charlie. Charlie!" Dean managed to get her to freeze (and turn a complete 180 without losing the crown) and kept her attention. "Greyfox and Thargrim – uh, Ed and Lance – they're not missing. They're dead."

Which actually made her sit down and listen. And so they explained everything, shared what bit of knowledge they had. Then Sam was off to the tech tent and Dean was left to have his little gossip rumour-y girl meeting. God, he felt like they were sixth grade girls braiding hair at a sleepover and complaining about their boyfriends. But Charlie had insisted Dean explain to her all of everything she missed, which wasn't too bad to sum up. 

And he got to wear a costume (which was not super cool at all). Dean was looking in the mirror, strapping on his leather armguards while Charlie was talking. He tightened the leather straps a little, doing everything he could not to picture what Sam might look like with nothing but leather cuffs on, tying him to a bed. Oh god. 

"You sent Sam a phantom text from his ex? Dick move, sir." Well she definitely didn't sugarcoat anything.

"Yeah, not my finest hour." Charlie twisted up her mouth, surveying Dean like she was hardcore judging him.

"So he found some normalcy with this chick, and now it's gone... again. Thanks to you." Well when she put it like that it made Dean sound like the worst person ever. Besides, Sam didn't need normalcy. Sam may not know that, but Dean knew Sam had a lot more in him than just a picket fence. Sure, he'd like it for a couple of years. But he'd lose it eventually, he'd become restless and unhappy and he'd never admit to himself because then Dean would be right. So in the long run, Dean knew Sam better than Sam did sometimes and he was actually helping him out. In a very selfish, I need you for myself sort of way.

"Yeah, well, now he's more committed than ever, so there's that." Dean turned around, looking at Charlie instead of her reflection. She raised an eyebrow, clicking her fingernails on the wooden table.

"More committed to the you? Or more committed to the job." She looked at him skeptically, and Dean blinked, looking down. Yeah, the job. So things weren't bad between them, but they weren't exactly great either. If _only_ Sam was more committed to Dean now. Maybe he was, maybe Dean just didn't see it. 

"I guess the job. But maybe me if...if everything works out." Dean puckered his lips and breathed out air through the o, considering what a big "if" that was. Besides, Amelia wouldn't ever have worked out with Sam. It was dangerous for both of them. Hell, it was dangerous for Dean to be friends with Cas. He was anyways, but Cas had made the same decision Sam did. Decided to leave, for both their sakes. It was painful, but it was safest. And it wasn't like Cas was permanently gone, but he wasn't permanently here either. And after he bailed on Dean last time, Dean was more worried now than ever. But Cas insisted on having things his way, and he was gone. 

"But, trust me, this life – you can't afford attachments. You just got to... let go." Charlie tilted her head sassily, her hands clasped over the table.

"Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone, too?" Dean's eyes had been wandering but he snapped them back to Charlie. He was pretty sure he just heard her wrong.

"Me?" Dean may have said it a little too surprised to be a casual mistake on Charlie's part. She softened her voice, putting on her best doe face and practically begging Dean to tell her.

"Yeah," she encouraged sweetly. Dean just brought his head back, looking at her like she was out of her mind.

"No." Okay, so that was a little too strong of a denial to expect her to drop it there. Dean hadn't had to pretend he hadn't liked someone for a long time though, he was a bit out of practice. Charlie sighed and fixed him with this regal stare, practically daring him to say no again.

"Riiggght." Dean sighed and looked up at the sky. Or roof of the tent. Although there wasn't really a roof... Charlie cleared her throat and Dean snapped his head back down. She just was giving him this _look_ and there was no way she'd leave him alone if he didn't tell her something. Dean sighed.

"Okay, so. I mean, there was this guy." Charlie squirmed in her seat and clapped her gloved hands, and letting out this sound that vaguely resembled a pig getting stabbed. Dean paused and looked at her with an eyebrow cocked.

"Look at that, Mr. Manly Dean Winchester, got himself not one boyfriend but _two_." Dean shot her a haha not funny glare but she just nodded her head and spoke again, her tone serious. "You should definitely run for queen once I book it out of here."

"I am _not_ ," Dean pointed an accusing finger at Charlie. "...running for _queen_!" 

Charlie just rolled her eyes and motioned with her hands for him to keep telling his story. Dean sighed, keeping it as brief as possible.

"We had this thing, but then there's Sam of course. Plus, he travels a lot, he's always flying places and having agendas, and...oh god I sound like a housewife. We're done talking about this." Charlie laughed, but stood up and grabbed her sword. 

"Alright, sir, time to go meet the kingdom." Dean shook his head and followed. He couldn't believe he'd just gotten weasled into spilling his guts about Sam and Cas. He hated sleepovers.

~*~*~

Dean turned his head to see Sam walking up, looking crisp and out of place in his dark fed suit. Sam's eyes scanned down Dean's body, and Dean thankfully didn't blush. Sam's mouth quirked up into a smile after his eyes trailed back up to Dean's again.

"Nice outfit." Dean looked down at himself then looked back up at Sam, his face and words serious.

"You love it." It was a bold move, and left Dean open entirely for rejection and ridicule. Which is something Dean never let himself be open to, but if the alternate meant Sammy having a bit of fun, it'd be worth it. Dean said it like it was an obvious observation, and Sam just looked at him and tilted his head, almost in a "I'm not going to disagree with you" sort of way. Dare Dean say that might be a flirt on Sam's part? 

"Right." Yeah, definitely flirting. So they were getting _somewhere_. Who knew Sammy just needed a little bit of dress-up to want to play again? "Well, while you were, uh, playing dress-up, I found out that the mark..." 

"Belongs to the Shadow Orcs." Dean finished Sam's sentence and smiled. Sam looked at him, a little surprised and impressed. Then it was all case talk, what little glimpse of flirting, of normality, gone for the time being. But maybe Dean could do something, could get Sam back into the happy state he thought he'd been giving up when he gave up his girl.

Sam had been happy with Dean once, Dean remembered that. He could bring that back to Sam, he could prove to him that he'd made the right choice.

As they walked through the woods, fought some crazed ebay-er, and escorted Charlie back to her camp, Dean did a lot of thinking. About how Sam clearly had reasons for not wanting to have fun. Sure, it was nice to dress up in chainmail and walk around like a badass, but Sam didn't think that would help. It was understandable, that a simple distraction like pretending to be a knight for a couple of hours wasn't going to fix any of the pain Sam was going through.

And Sam had to know that Dean understood that, and he wasn't trying to force Sam into anything. Just because dressing up made Dean forget that Cas had ditched his ass again, didn't mean it'd make Amelia's absence (and the absence of normal- Dean knew it was about that too) go away for Sam. Besides, Cas was probably going to be back at one point, he always was. Amelia, on the other hand, was over forever.

Dean looked up at Sam, clearing his throat.

"So, what's, uh... what's next? 'Cause no fun, right? Look, before you say anything, I – I – I get it. No amount of fun is gonna help you get over what you gave up." Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, something he never did, but talking about her was strange. And Dean was trying to be the understanding potential boyfriend, so he had to say something. But it didn't mean he was comfortable saying it. "You just, uh... you need time, right?"

Dean wasn't as much confirming that as asking it. Like maybe he was trying to ask Sam if there was a chance for them, after Sam had a little time. That was all it would take, right?

"Yeah. Thanks." Dean looked down and nodded. "And you're right. Having fun won't help me."

Dean sucked in a breath and tilted his head. Sam really was a buzzkill sometimes. 

"It'll help both of us." Dean looked up, carefully regarding Sam. Sam had the smile of a temptress on, but his eyes were soft and sweet. 

"Shall we?" Dean had just been officially asked to go play a game of war. And Sam had said _shall we?_ Dean couldn't fight back the elated grin, the way his eyes lit up. Shall we. Reserved only for couples, for a gentlemen asking a lady to dance, but Dean could be the girl this time. For a moment. If it meant it was a date, if it meant being aside Sam, Dean would do a lot of things. And he got the bonus of getting to fight people with foam swords and wear chainmail. 

He forced himself back into a less childish grin, nodding nonchalantly like he didn't feel like grabbing Sam's hand and swinging it through the air as they walked to battle. Although if they were doing this, they were going all out. Like, outfits and all.

Sam took a step towards Charlie's tent, looking over his shoulder to invite Dean along. Dean walked up beside Sam, threading his arm through the space between Sam's elbow and his body. Dean hooked his arm in towards his stomach, and Sam looked down, surprised. He turned his eyes on Dean, but Dean just bit his lip and fought back another grin. Sam crooked his arm too, pulling it ahead of Dean's a bit so Dean's hand landed on his arm. Okay, this was _really_ girly, but fine. It was a ten foot walk to the tent anyways, and Dean hadn't been this close to Sam since god knows how long.

Being friends with the queen certainly had it's advantages, because Charlie got them costumes _and_ cleared a tent for them so they could change. _One_ tent, accompanied by a wink in Dean's direction.

Sam closed the flap behind them, holding up the cloak and outfit Charlie had found for him. Dean looked at it and raised his eyebrows, smirking. Sam looked at him pointedly, undoing his tie almost violently and throwing it down on the ground.

"You are gonna love it." Dean laughed, throwing back his head. Sam shrugged out of his jacket quickly, his eyes on Dean's as he stripped. Dean swallowed tightly but Sam just kept a light smile on his face, his eyes twinkling and the corners of his mouth twitching like he was laughing at Dean. Or more like laughing with him.

"Can you see if she gave us a paintbrush for the face paint?" Dean snapped out of his daze of watching Sam undo his buttons, and took a few seconds saying uhhhh before his brain registered and he got up from where he'd been sitting to watch Sam. Sam had just decided to ask him to find the paintbrush as soon as he started getting to the good part. Of course. Dean bent over the bag Charlie had stuffed full of "things you will need, believe me." He rummaged through, finding both red and white containers of paint. And, what was this?

Dean pulled the blonde thing out of the bag, confirming his suspicion it was a wig. He held it up in the air, dangling it from a finger. 

"Hey, Sam." Dean turned his head, and instantly regretted it. Sam was stripped down to black boxer briefs, and was currently bent in half, wrestling the bottoms of his pants over his feet. Sam looked up, his hair flopping out of his eyes and his face lighting up in a grin. Dean was still just staring, but Sam didn't notice or didn't mind.

"Is that a wig?" Dean tore his gaze away from Sam and looked over at the blonde wig hanging from his finger.

"Yeah, it is. You know, it's got longer hair then yours." Sam snorted, mumbling something that sounded like "very funny, Dean." Dean grinned and cocked his head. Oh he was so wearing this. He sat it next to the bag, sticking his hands in again and finding what he'd been looking for. Dean pulled out two paintbrushes, soft tipped so they didn't hurt on your skin, but with rough enough bristles to still hold paint. This was going to be so fun. 

Dean spun around, holding up the paintbrushes in one hand and nearly running into Sam. Sam huffed a laugh and snatched the paintbrushes from Dean's hand, scooping up the paint too. Dean ran his eyes down Sam's outfit, the brown complimented his hazel eyes nicely. He was just about to say so when Sam pushed on his chest, lightly shoving him down into the royal chair behind him. It was one of those huge red chairs they had in movies at the top of the throne, with gold designs on the arms and an elegant back that actually turned out to be really comfortable. Dean plopped down with a started protest, but Sam just shh'ed him and opened up a container of white paint.

"Hold still." Dean grumbled about the cold brush but managed to hold still enough for Sam to paint him without any major difficulties. Although he did slap a hand over Dean's mouth once, apparently not putting up with another second of Dean's complaints about the temperature, and if Sam messed this up Dean would kill him first. As soon as Sam's hand closed tightly against Dean's lips, Dean shut up for a lot more reasons than just not being able to make noise past his lips. His cheeks flushed as Sam held him there, hand cupped roughly against Dean's mouth and trapping any sound he might be able to make.

Dean sat patiently after that, even when Sam finally took his hand away to paint around Dean's mouth. Dean's pupils had dilated majorly, but Sam was just humming and painting Dean contently. He would be the type to geek out over the painting part instead of the actual fighting part. Of course.

When it was finally Sam's turn to get painted, Dean was a lot less patient. He stood up and pushed Sam down in the chair, a smile on his face about the quick change of events. Sam had held up his hands when Dean picked up the bottle of paint though, and Dean made an exasperated sound. What now?

Sam looked down at his wrist and rolled something up over his hand. Dean just tilted his head and looked at Sam dubiously. Then Sam put the something in between his teeth, running his fingers through his hair and pulling it back to behind his head. Oh no. Dean recognized the band in Sam's mouth as a hairtie, and he was totally putting his hair in a ponytail right now. Dean had no idea what that was going to mean to him in a few seconds, because he'd never seen Sam in a ponytail before. He was pretty sure Sam had never seen himself in a ponytail either.

Sam brought his hands back to his lap, looking up at Dean expectantly. Dean stared down at Sam and might have said something along the lines of "that's probably the sexiest thing I have seen in my life." Or maybe he'd maintained his manlyhood and just called Sam a girl and made a joke about him bottoming next time, but honestly Dean wasn't sure what came out of his mouth, just that Sam laughed at it. 

Then Dean was kissing Sam, running his tongue along Sam's bottom lip, pressing their mouths against each other for the first time in too long. Sam tilted his head up and opened his mouth under Dean's, twisting his head a little to the side. Dean had one hand under Sam's jawline, pressing against the warm skin on the side of Sam's neck, and the other ran back from Sam's temple to the tail of hair on the back of Sam's head, smoothing down across the silky strands that were so different than normal. 

The only thing that made Dean pull back was the fact that they only had five more minutes to get ready before the fight, and if he didn't stop kissing Sam right now, he'd probably never stop. Dean ended the kiss slowly, letting their mouths go from meshed together to brushing to centimeters away, slowly pulling away and making them both very aware of every added inch between their mouths. Dean straightened back up, no longer bent in half over Sam's chair. If someone had walked in that would've been quite a sight. 

Dean looked down at his brother, who now had a bit of a red paint next to his lips. Dean wrinkled his nose, looking down at the pain that had just spoiled his plan.

"I was going to paint that part white, dammit." Sam just looked at him with one eyebrow raised. Dean widened his eyes and shrugged. What obvious thing was he missing?

"It comes off, you know." Dean rolled his eyes and licked his thumb. Of course it came off, he wasn't stupid. Dean put his wetted thumb over the paint, rubbing at the side of Sam's mouth. Sam turned his head to the side, making a face.

"Ew, Dean! Don't rub your spit on me."

"What, so you can have it in your mouth and like it just fine but I can't rub paint off your cheek with it?" Dean made a face back at Sam and kept rubbing. It was pink now, and almost coming off, if Sam would just hold still dammit. He finally did, leveling his gaze with Dean and pursing his lips teasingly.

"Who said I liked it in my mouth?" Dean was about to retort when Sam leaned forward a bit, his voice dropping low and playful. "Maybe you should try again and I could tell you whether or not I do."

Dean didn't even have time to smile again before he crashed his mouth into Sam's. Sam opened up and Dean ran his tongue across the inside of Sam's lower lip. Sam moaned into Dean's mouth and reached up a hand to fist Dean's chainmail, making the links rattle and clink against each other. Dean's tongue slid over Sam's, then ran lightly across the roof of his mouth, tracing a pattern back to Sam's lips. Dean licked once at the seam of Sam's open lips, where they met at the side of his mouth. Sam's fist tightened and Dean's heart raced twenty beats faster.

"Ahem." Dean broke his mouth away from Sam's, jumping back and upright. His facepaint was probably all smeared, and his outfit was definitely dragging sideways across his shoulder. And Sam had more red paint on his cheek dammit. Dean spun around and got greeted with a happy glare (yeah, she looked elated but pissed it was strange) from Charlie.

"Love to see my favourite bros back together, but we're on in two minutes and fifty seconds. Wait-forty five seconds." Charlie looked back up from her watch and made a get going motion with her hands before she stepped back out of the tent. 

Dean turned back to Sam and smudged the red paint off of his cheek, this time without any complaints from Sam, just a teasing smile. Dean finished up painting Sam and struggled into his wig, throwing off as many long-haired jokes Sam's way he could manage. Until Sam threatened to wear his hair in a ponytail from now on and Dean shut up. 

Then they were on the battlefield, running in side by side and kicking some hardcore accountant-ass with their foam swords. Of course, they won, even though Dean probably whacked Sam just as many times as he took out some accountant. Sam just keep shooting him looks that were half adoration and half I'm going to kick your ass later. Well, Dean couldn't wait for that. 

When they stumbled back into the tent designated as theirs, Dean was laughing and Sam had an adorable, actually real, smile on his face. Dean spun around, dropping his sword to the ground and pulling off his wig. It was cool, but also itchy as hell. Besides, Dean didn't make a very good blonde, he'd tried that before. Just, no. So, to the ground for the wig too.

Sam was looking at Dean strangely, and Dean sauntered up to him, tilting his head in curiosity. Then Sam's eyes lit up and he flashed a smile, one of his devious "I have a plan" smiles. Dean tilted his head and awaited the _"Get this."_ Although instead, Sam decided to vary the last couple of words.

"Get down on your knees." Dean's eyebrows flew up and his jaw dropped. He was totally one for blowjobs and all, but Sam bossing him around was not a common occurance enough for Dean to ever get used to it. Plus, there had been absolutely no preamble to that, just laughing about their win one second and Sam demanding Dean to his knees the next.

Irregardless of his shock, Dean fell to his knees in a few seconds, so fast it sent a bit of a sting up his spine. Dean looked up at Sam, his eyes wide and dark, kind of in awe and extremely turned on. Sam just looked down at him, his red and white face paint and ponytail getting chalked up pretty high on the kinkiest-shit-Dean's-done list. Sam was still holding his foam sword, tall before he ever made Dean go down on his knees. The silence though, with Sam just looking at him. It would kill Dean.

"Bow your head." Dean blinked and swallowed, then dipped his chin down to his chest. Sam was going all out, just watching Dean obey him like a golden retriever. Dean felt used, but in a way that was making his breathing faster and his pants too tight. He kept his head bowed, basically submitting himself for Sam to be his master. Sam was going to get teased like hell for this later, there was no way Dean was letting go of a kink this big. Like ever. 

With his eyes only able to see Sam's feet, Dean had no idea what was going on (or why he was bowing his head), but Sam seemed to like it that way because he was quiet, the only sound in the tent their synced breathing. Sam must have left him there for at least a minute and a half, just looking down as Dean grew more and more impatient and more and more aroused. 

A heavy weight touched on Dean's shoulder, and he nearly jumped with surprise. He managed to just startle a little, but still keep his head down. When Sam was in his kinky whatever-this-was mode, Dean wasn't going to do anything without permission. He may be whipped as hell, but Sam wanted this and Dean wanted Sam. Besides, a little role play never killed anyone. Well, except that was what this whole case was about. Anywaaayyss.

Sam's feet shuffled a little and he cleared his throat. Dean held his breath and tried to decode what the hell was resting on his shoulder. It was cylindrical, and like enormous. And it made a brushing sound against Dean's chainmail...oh. It was Sam's sword. Dean almost looked up then, being entirely clueless as to what was going on and knowing Sam's eyes would tell him. Then Sam finally spoke, and Dean's bowed head stayed bowed.

"I, Samuel Winchester, hereby declare Dean Winchester," Dean's face broke out in a grin. Sam was knighting him. That was adorable. Sam's sword moved from Dean's right shoulder to his left.

"...As the official boyfriend of Samuel Winchester." Dean's jaw dropped. He had so not been expecting that. "You may rise, Sir Dean, and accept your role as the boyfriend you were intended to be."

Sam had literally taken the knight speech and replaced the word knight with boyfriend. Sam had just asked him out. He freaking _knighted_ Dean to ask him out. (Dean's asking out of Sam a few years ago suddenly felt pale in comparison.) Dean swung his knee up and got one foot on the ground, then hoisted himself up to standing. Sam's sword was at his side now, and when Dean straightened up entirely, Sam was looking at him with a wicked grin on his face. Dean stared at the hazel eyes, his jaw still slightly slack. It took him a while to find words, and when he finally did, they came stumbling out super fast.

"Did you just ask me to be your boyfriend?" Dean was 100% sure Sam did, but clarifying was always a safe bet. Sam's mouth curved up on one side, a snarky side smile that made him look super enticing.

"No, Sir Dean. I _told_ you to be my boyfriend." Sam's eyes were twinkling and right then and there Dean decided they were role playing at Charlie's as a yearly thing now. For the rest of time. Dean took a single step forward, his feet stepping up in between Sam's. Their bodies were inches away now, and Dean's eyes swept over his paint handiwork, the sharp lines on Sam's face. Then he murmured low, his lips a few inches from Sam's (his boyfriend's) as he spoke and his eyes trained upwards, holding Sam's gaze.

"Whatever you say, my king." 

Sam practically dived forward, his mouth closing over Dean's with an intensity that made Dean's head spin and he lost his footing for a moment. Sam grabbed him to stop him from falling over, then just pulled Dean in closer without breaking their mouths once. Sam kissed him hard and messy, the taste of Sam combined a little with a faint taste of face paint. Dean's entire world was tilting on it's axis, and Sam was the only thing keeping him upright. His brain cataloged the term _my king_ for later, because that was one Dean could use in a lot of different ways if he wanted. After all, Sam almost _had_ been king once...

Then Sam was pushing Dean backwards until his ass hit the side of the royal chair they had been using to put on paint earlier. It was a big chair, red plush and a tall back that stood almost as tall as Sam. Sam pinned Dean to it, suddenly changing the angle of their heads, pushing against Dean harder and fucking his tongue into Dean's mouth. Dean's chest tightened, along with his groin, and he bucked up his hips against Sam's. Dean's entire body shivered with chills, each plunge of Sam's tongue between his lips sending Dean higher into a state of shock. 

There was so much heat between them, and Dean couldn't help but filthily buck up against Sam. Sam rolled his hips against Dean's, making the hard lines of their dicks rub against each other throw the cloth. Dean would've thrown his head back and gasped if Sam hadn't taken that moment to bite Dean's lip and suck it into his mouth. Dean made a strangled sound that portrayed the feeling that he was dying fairly well. Sam gnawed at his lip, sucking and biting at it like it was Sam's to take. Dean's gloved hands dug into Sam's back and his pelvis thrust faster against the heat of Sam's. Dean could feel the hot coil in his lower stomach, the tingle at the base of his spine. 

He was so about to ruin the clothes they borrowed. Dean hadn't come in his pants for years, but he was very acutely aware that that was about to change any second. Dean somehow mustered up the willpower to pull his lip out of Sam's mouth and tilt his head to the side, gasping in air and never once slowing the rhythm of his hips pumping up against Sam's. 

"S-Sam," Dean panted, automatically biting his lip to keep back a loud groan. A sharp pain pulsed through Dean's mouth and he gasped, drawing his teeth quickly away from his lip. Sam had bitten and bruised Dean's lip like crazy, it hurt like hell to just bite like normal. Sam's teeth were grazing lightly over Dean's cheekbone, followed by a quick swipe of his tongue. Dean couldn't help the weak sound that escaped his mouth at that. Sam was not helping Dean stop at all. He was seriously going to come any second now if Sam kept doing that. 

"S-Sammy, I'm close. God, just. These aren't our clothes, man." Dean managed to pant out enough words for Sam to get the message, although Sam didn't do a thing about it until he'd covered Dean's entire cheekbone, all the way out to the corner of his eye. Dean closed his eyes as Sam dipped a swirl over the crinkles by his left eye. With his eyes closed, Dean tried to figure out why Sam had a sudden interest in Dean's cheekbone until he realized. Well, everything else was covered in face paint. 

Dean smiled at that thought, a real smile. That was new, Dean had never actually smiled on the verge of orgasming, he was always just so focused on exactly everything that was happening to his downstairs brain. That thought reminded Dean though, of the fact that he was standing on the edge of having Charlie never trust them with borrowed outfits again. 

"S-Sam," Dean tried again, his hips stuttering as he attempted to slow them. Sam drew back his head and met Dean's eyes as his hands suddenly were underneath Dean's shirt, untying the leather knot that stood in place of a button. Dean finally threw his head back, closing his eyes and sucking in air as Sam pinned Dean's hips to the chair. Dean still squirmed, suddenly at a desperate loss of friction. Sam's fingers tugged down the brown pants, just barely below Dean's ass. Then his hand dipped inside the waistband of Dean's boxer briefs, wrapping around the base of Dean's cock and squeezing.

Dean jumped at the contact, Sam's hands were _cold_. Then Sam squeezed and Dean could feel his orgasm stepping a foot back from the ledge, holding off at bay. Dean groaned, his fingers curling around the arm rest of the chair behind him. Dean was going to die if Sam kept teasing him this way, they seriously needed to just have sex already. Dean was about to mention the idea to Sam when Sam's fingers suddenly left the base of his cock, trailing up the length of it instead. Dean bit his lip again and cursed again, already forgetting it was too painful to do that. 

Sam pulled Dean's cock up against his stomach, freeing it a little from the constraint of the fabric. Sam pressed his thumb just under the head, massaging a point into the sensitive skin while skirting his other fingers lightly up and down. Then Sam was pulling up and pressing his palm over the top of Dean's head, rubbing the leaking precum into his palm. There was a wet spot on Dean's boxers, but the pants appeared to have survived unscathed, or at least not noticabely scathed. Not like they would be if Sam hadn't tugged them out of the way. 

With the slick wetness of Dean's leaking slit all over Sam's hand now, he twisted his hands around and down, pulling a little at the drag of their skin. Dean moaned and bucked his hips forward into Sam's hand. The hand that wasn't in Dean's boxers was still on his hip, and Sam pinned his hips against the chair again. Dean flushed and another groan slipped off his lips. Sam dragged his hand back up Dean's cock, squeezing as he did, like he was trying to coax the come right out of Dean.

"Sam, please. Uggghh. Please, god, let me come." Dean didn't say a lot during sex normally, but it was broad daylight in here and they were still basically clothed, and he was seriously not below begging Sam right now, he needed it that badly. Sam sped up his pace jacking Dean, switching from the tantalizingly slow to a steady (but still way too slow) rhythm. Sam leaned his mouth in close to the side of Dean's head, tugging once at Dean's earlobe. 

"Please, your _highness_." Sam's voice was low and raspy and Dean suddenly saw stars. He felt a vague tightening around his cock again, just as he was about to shoot all over Sam's hand and the inside of his boxers. Dean honestly thought he'd been at a point where holding it off anymore was impossible, but apparently he had three seconds left, thanks to Sam trying to clamp down his orgasm again. Dean shut his eyes and stuttered it out, the words hardly audible.

"P-please, your... r-royal highness." Sam kissed Dean's ear and tugged up on his cock, sending Dean over the edge spiraling into his orgasm. Dean cried out loud enough for at least the next two tents on either side to know exactly what the handmaiden and the other warrior were up to. Sam pumped Dean's cock slowly as he pulsed out come into the fabric of his boxers, which Sam made sure not to direct up onto Dean's stomach, because that was sure to ruin the shirt that also wasn't theirs. 

Sam let got of Dean's hip and let him free to pump himself through Sam's hand as he rode out his cries and moans. When Dean's cock finally stopped spilling warm come all over Sam's hand and the inside of his boxers (he was going to have to go commando now, at least until the got to the motel where the rest of Dean's clothes were). 

By the time Dean could see straight without sparks running through his body and in front of his eyes, he felt weak and barely able to hold himself up against the chair. Sam scooped his clean hand under the small of Dean's back, supporting him upright as he tried to convince his breathing back to normal again. As soon as Dean was just breathing a little heavier than normal, he lifted his head and looked up at Sam. Who totally had face paint smeared all over his face. Dean's probably looked even worse, but Sam's was at least mostly pink now, thanks to the red mixing with the white. 

Dean looked at Sam, really looked at him, at the ponytail and the pink and red paint, and he totally lost it. Dean buckled in half laughing, his lungs barely drawing in enough oxygen to keep him from choking. The laughter was almost as much wheezing as it was laughing, but it felt too good to laugh again to stop. When Dean finally managed to get ahold of himself, he straightened up and wiped at a tear forming in his eye, succeeding in smearing red paint all over the back of his hand. Sam was laughing too, mostly at Dean's laughter and not nearly as devastatingly, but still laughing lightly all the same. 

Dean took the red-paint-covered hand and brought it up to Sam's cheek (getting even more paint on it), and leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss the paint-smeared lips. Sam kissed him back happily, actually smiling against Dean's mouth as their lips moved across each other. Dean could feel his hand sticking to Sam's face, and god this facepaint thing was a hassle. It was causing more of a mess than the cooling cum in Dean's boxers. Which he would really like to get out of.

Dean pulled back from Sam and lifted his hand off of Sam's face with a light popping sound. Sam looked over at the paint covered hand and grinned again, amused at Dean's misfortune. That gave Dean an idea though, and he quickly lifted up his left hand, cupping it around Sam's jaw to hold his head in place. Sam looked at Dean with raised eyebrows as Dean dragged two fingers across the paint on Sam's face. Then he brought his fingers up to Sam's forehead, painting out letters over the half without paint, and clearing the paint away from the half that was red and pink. Sam stood still and patient, but Dean was pretty sure Sam could tell what he was writing, it wasn't hard for normal people to designate the feel of letter brushstrokes, let alone a trained hunter.

He took a step back from Sam, bringing his hands down to survey his artwork. Four letters stood out, like someone had liquified the essence of Valentine's day and smeared the red and pink remains across Sam's face. It was cute though, and this was one of the million moments in Dean's life that made him wish he owned a camera. Sam looked at Dean and nodded, confirming that yes, he knew what it said. And yes, Sam was. Dean's mouth quirked up in a side smile, the four letters sloped out into a message neither of them could ever forget.

 _M I N E_.

There was actually a vanity in here, and a sponge, which ended up turning from yellow to pink thanks to all the paint. Sam washed Dean's face off first, kissing each spot as soon as it was free of paint. Although the first time he did that, he still had paint on his lips and left a lipmark that looked exactly like a girls. Dean had nearly died laughing again, and Sam had to chase him around the tent to wipe the evidence off of Dean's face. Sam had stripped down to just his pants now, and Dean had stripped entirely. They eventually did managed to get all of the paint off of their faces, Dean making sure the last thing he wiped off of Sam was the letters. As soon as those were gone, Dean traced them back with a clean finger, imagining the color under his fingertips where the was none.

Sam looked at him like he was edible at that moment, and Dean was just about ready to be. As soon as the sponge dropped into the little sink for the last time, Sam's mouth was on Dean's again, much cleaner this time. They stumbled their way back to the chair again, Sam shedding his pants and boxers somewhere along the way and almost tripping on them. As soon as they reached the chair Dean pushed Sam down onto it and Sam drew Dean into his lap, already hard cock pressing up against Dean's ass. Dean kissed Sam's face, everywhere he could reach, soft little pecks that turned more sloppy and wet as Sam rolled his hips up against Dean. Dean's calves were resting on either side of Sam's hips and thighs, the chair actually big enough and plush enough to do this without discomfort. 

Eventually Dean didn't have the coordination to kiss Sam's face anymore, he just pressed his cheek against Sam's and breathed heavy, an occasional high-pitched moan making it out of his mouth with his breaths. Sam grinded up against Dean until they were both raging hard and leaking precome onto Dean's stomach and ass. Dean felt filthy wet and dirty, about to get fucked by his boyfriend in a tent where anyone could clearly walk in. But based on the noises coming out of both of their mouths, particularly Dean's, he was fairly sure people got the stay out memo. 

Sam palmed Dean's head again, scooping the precome onto his hand. Dean pressed his cheek harder against the side of Sam's, breathing against Sam's ear. Sam wrapped his hand around to Dean's ass, sliding his fingers down from his lower back to his hole. Dean's body tensed at the brush of Sam's wet fingers, but he pushed back on them in impatience. Sam pushed a single finger against Dean's entrance, a slight pull of pain as it slid in. Dean bit his lip for the third time and cursed again for the third time. He didn't even know he was really that much of a lip biter for it to matter when Sam bruised him up, but apparently he was.

Sam pushed his finger in further, which actually helped against the sharpness of the sensation. Sam pulled his finger out and slicked it and his middle finger up with his own precome this time, pressing back inside of Dean. Dean hissed at the second finger but sunk his hips down anyways. Sam carefully worked Dean open, both of them knowing it had been a few weeks before either of them had done this. Sam thankfully didn't take forever though, only thrusting into Dean a few times with two fingers before he added a third. Dean bit Sam's shoulder at that one, because he couldn't very well bite his lip and the muscle attaching Sam's shoulder to his neck seemed inviting. 

Sam gasped and stuttered his hips up against Dean when his teeth sunk into the (always tense) muscle. Sam was much faster then, nearly forcing Dean open on his fingers, finally as impatient as Dean was. Then Sam was getting the next few drops of precum on his hand and slicking up his cock with that and spit while Dean held himself up, his ass a few inches up from Sam's thighs. Sam lined up against Dean's prepped entrance, holding one hand on Dean's hip to help him lift up. 

Then Dean sank down, slowly enough to burn the muscles in his thighs. He sank all the way until he bottomed out on Sam's lap, Sam hilt-deep inside him and filling Dean with the warmest sort of comfort and arousal. Dean tilted Sam's face up and kissed him, rolling his hips in a tantalizing circle as he sucked on Sam's tongue. Then Sam lifted Dean up, a hand on both hips, and slammed him back down. Dean saw stars for a moment and made some sort of sound that could probably be categorized as a mix between a cry and a groan. 

Being manhandled over Sam's cock was a damn sin, and Dean nearly lost it again just because of the tight grip Sam had on his hipbones. Sam had done all the work today though, so the least Dean could do was save being entirely manhandled for another time. He closed his hands over Sam's on his hips, then Dean rolled his hips up and forward, down and back against Sam's lap again. Sam's eyes fluttered and he called Dean's name softly, his hands tightening in desperation. Dean picked up a steady pace, pulling himself up and down over Sam's cock, rolling his hips and feeling the length of Sam inside him. Sam groaned and mouthed Dean's name at every swing of Dean's hips, falling apart as Dean rode him, pulling Sam closer and closer to the edge.

Sam's cock twitched inside him, every muscle in Sam's body tense and tight. Dean was getting quite the ab workout himself, which he could probably use, especially when he was in a relationship with A&E's top swimsuit model over here. If Sam wasn't a hunter, he literally could be a model. Not that Dean would ever tell him that, because then if Sam decided that was a good idea, Dean was out one hot boyfriend. Not to mention the best friend he'd ever had in his life. 

Dean had been taking Sam in deep, then lifting himself up and nearly off him, leaving nothing but Sam's head inside before sliding back down the shaft again. Sam grappled Dean in towards him, biting possessively at Dean's neck and his paint-free jaw. Dean kept his hips moving, shifting up and towards Sam then down and away, giving Sam a full range of the entirety of Dean's inner muscles while Sam worked over the skin on Dean's neck. 

Sam got all bitey and rough when he got worked up, and Dean loved it. He knew very well exactly what people would think as they saw the litter of bruises and teethmarks over his skin. It was just the same as the pink and red word Dean had stroked across Sam's forehead. Mine.

Dean's dick rubbed up against Sam's stomach each time Dean arched his back and tilted his pelvis forward. It was painting a thin sheen of precome over Sam's defined abs, beads pearling in the creviced lines of Sam's six pack. It was quite the sight to see. Even though he'd already came half an hour ago, Dean was quite aware of the warmth building in his stomach again. 

He shifted his angle a bit, which made it harder for Sam to bite at his neck. Sam detached his mouth from Dean's skin, kissing Dean's mouth instead for a few slightly sped up thrusts. Then Dean drew back, his eyes catching Sam's as he started building them both up. 

Dean's languid movements became fast sharp jabs at the angle just below his prostate. Dean shifted his hips again, driving Sam into his prostate in a fast and brutal movement. He may or may not have screamed out Sam's name.

Dean practically bounced his ass on Sam's dick, a low constant moan draining out of his mouth. Dean drove Sam even more crazy than he drove himself, and Sam was making hungry sounds into whatever skin his mouth could reach. 

The heat nearly exploded from Dean's chest as his body seized and his come shot out all over his and Sam's stomachs. Sam spilled his warmth into Dean a moment later, just as Dean clenched around him. Dean sunk himself up and down on Sam a few more times, with the help of Sam's hands guiding him. The bliss echoed in every fiber he had and lots he didn't know he had. His thighs were killing him, but maybe he could convince Sam into a massage back at the motel room. It'd have to be in a couple of hours though, because thigh massages, any kind of massage, always ended up leading to sex and Dean was spent. Very very spent. 

Dean layed his forehead down on Sam's shoulder, breathing in the scent of Sam's sweet and sex and smiling. Dean wrapped his arms up around Sam's neck and buried his face in to Sam's skin. Sam laughed softly and brought his arms up around Dean's back, making it an actual hug instead of Dean just koala-bearing Sam. This one made the list of Dean's favourite hugs, with Sam still softening inside Dean and them wrapped around each other, clinging on like it was a promise to never let go. 

And for Dean, it was. 

They were officially together for the second time, and Dean wasn't going to let that slip out of his fingers again. He was holding onto Sam and never letting go. _Mine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just as an FYI, I split up Angel Chronicles. It was really crazy tbh, having 100+ chapters is just...daunting. Even if the first chapter is called undaunted.
> 
> So I split off another section, like I did with The Prequel. That way seasons 4-8~ have their own work inside the series, just to make it easier to read.   
> Now the layout is like this:
> 
> Stumbling on the Road So Far: The Prequel (Seasons 1-3)  
> Stumbling on the Road So Far: Angel Chronicles (Seasons 4-8~)  
> Stumbling on the Road So Far: Bunkered Down (Seasons 8-however many)
> 
> So, fear not, the next chapter is just at the click of the >> arrow after the /Stumbling On the Road So Far: Series/ button right down there vvv
> 
> Aka. THE STORY DOES NOT END HERE
> 
> in fact it's kind of barely begun
> 
> do enjoy :)
> 
> Much love and thanks again!
> 
> xx


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